THE 

CHURCH  KNAVIAD, 

OR 


A  SLIGHT  TOUCH  OF  THE 

SERIO-COMIC, 

TOUCHING 

CHURCH  KNAVERY. 

BY  IIORATIUS  FLACCUS. 


NEW  HAVEN: 
PUBLISHED  BY  DR.  FAUSTUS, 

No.   89  HIGH-OLD-FLEET-STREET. 

18G4. 


PREFACE. 

Prefaces  are  never  read.  They  never  should  be.  They 
are  like  corks  to  bottles,  only  intended  to  retain  the  flavor 
of  the  vintage  or  keep  down  the  effervescence  for  the  flag 
on.  None  but  downright  nincompoops  ever  taste  of  the 
cork.  If  you  would  read  this  volume,  therefore,  cut  the 
preface  at  once,  and  let  the  cork  fly.  If  the  vintage  that 
follows  is  not  to  your  liking, — if  you  do  not  agree  with  us 
that  it  sparkles  with  genuine  wit,  hurnor,  and  pathos,  then, 
•with  Dogberry,  write  yourself  down  an  ass,  and  therein 
your  judgment  will  accord  for  once  with  that  of 

DR.  FAUSTUS, 


THE  CHURCH  KNAVIAD, 

OR 

HORACE  IN  WEST  HAVEN. 

CANTO  I. 

I  do  not  like  you,  Dr.  Pell, 
The  reason  why,  I  cannot  tell; 
But  this  I  know,  and  that  full  well, 
I  do  not  like  you,  Dr.  Pell ! 

Hudibras. 

SCENE  IN  WEST  HAVEN. — Horace  and  Maecenas  enter 
town. — The  latter  recounts  his  adventurous  escape  from  the  do 
minions  of  Pluto — in  the  vulgate,  "Old  Scratch;"  while  the 
former  writes  a  veritable  Jdstory,  d'c.,  <&c.,  with  a  sVtght  episode 
on  the  town. 

I. 

My  dear  Maecenas,  how  d'you  do  ? 
Quite  unexpected  meeting  you. 

So  far  away  from  home ; 
I  really  thought  you  in  arrears 
To  Pluto  still  a  thousand  years, 

For  what  you  did  at  Rome. 

II. 

"  My  sins,  you  see,  the  chief  amount, 
Were  posted  to  the  wrong  account, 

By  Satan's  clerk  pro  tern. 
So  here's  my  clearance  and  discharge, 
And  liberty  to  roam  at  large, 

O'er  this  old  ball  again." 


III. 

You  were  indeed  a  "  lucky  chiel," 
To  come  it  o  er  the  subtle  deil 

In  such  a  way  as  that ; 
A  bribe  ?  ah.  yes,  the  very  trick 
You  plaved  «t  Tusculum  so  slick. 

j.         *t  •  *•* 

Did  Satan  smell  the  rat  ? 

IV. 

"  No,  not  exactly  ;  but  he  looked 
To  see  if  each  account  was  booked, 

And  paged  in  order  right ; 
And  then  he  scratched  his  dexter  brow, 
And  said,  he  rather  guessed  '  as  how' 

I  could'nt  come  5t  quite  ! 

V. 

"  To  which  I  civilly  rejoined, 
Just  as  your  Majesty's  inclined, 

Not  as  I  care  a  groat ; 
For  since  my  passport  is  visced, 
And  the  grim  ferryman  is  paid, 

And  stands  within  his  boat, 

VI. 

"  Ready  to  waft  me  back  again, 
With  the  first  breeze  from  Stygian  plain, 

I  don't  exactly  see 
How  a  ne  exeat  will  lie, 
Unless  your  Majesty  deny 

The  right  of  Charon's  fee. 


VII. 

"At  this  he  stamped  his  hoof  and  swore 
He'd  batter  down  all  h — 11  before 

ITc'd  have  such  emigration  ; 
It  was  enough  to  make  one  swear 
Terrific  oaths  on  nether  air, 

Or  damn  a  new  creation  ! 

viir. 

"  His  realm,  he  said,  would  shortly  be 
Depopulated,  and  set  free 

From  every  honest  knave, 
If  Charon  were  allowed  to  take 
Just  whom  he  pleased  across  the  lake, 

Without  his  sovereign  leave. 

IX. 

<:  But  heeding  not  his  wrathful  mood, 
I  still  more  resolutely  .stood 

By  what  I'd  said  before  ; 
And  giving  Charon,  first  the  wink, 
And  then  his  obolus  or  "chink," 

We  darted  from  the  shore. 

X. 

"  And  now  across  the  Stygian  lake, 
And  fiercely  bellowing  in  our  wake, 

Old  Ccrebus  doth  co7n<>, 
With  all  his  hundred-headed  pack 
Of  barking  whelps  upon  our  track, 

To  rend  the  infernal  dome. 


8 

XI. 

t;  But  Charon  plies  his  dusky  oar, 
And  soon  the  dark  Plutonian  shore 

Recedes  from  mortal  sight, 
With  all  the  wild  infernal  din 
Of  shrieking  dervishes  within 

Its  halls  of  dismal  light. 

XII. 

"And  now  at  length,  we  stand  again 
On  terra  firma's  firm  domain, 

Untrammelled  and  set  free; 
And  henceforth  bound  to  sec  the  '  sights,' 

O  ' 

The  desperate  raids  and  bloody  fights, 
In  '  Young  America.' 

XIII. 

"  For  here  we  find  the  very  air 
Sonorous  with  the  din  of  war, 

And  the  loud-clashing  steel, 
With  brazen  cannon  belching  forth 
The  thunders  of  the  indignant  North, 

In  bomb  and  shrieking  shell : 

XIV. 

"  A  sight  at  which  the  angels  grieve, 
And  devils  chuckle  in  their  sleeve, 

To  sec  the  horrid  farce, 
Of  thousands  rushing  oil  their  doom, 
'Mid  shot,  and  shell,  and  rattling  bomb, 

All  for  a  biped  race  ! 


9 

XV. 

"  How  little  thought  we  in  old  Home, 
That  such  a  day  as  this  would  come, 

When  pure  Phaaiician  blood 
Would  flow  like  rivers  to  give  place 
To  that  of  Afric's  dtis:;y  race, 

Beyond  Ilcspcria's  flood  ! 

xvi. 

"Would  that  the  immortal  gods  could  rise, 
And  frowu  indignant  from  the  skies 

Upon  this  direful  scene  ; 
Where  brother,  peeking  brother's  blood, 
Defiles  the  land  with  corpses  strewed 

lrrom  Mexico  (o  Maine! 

XVII. 

"  No  wonder  that  all  hell  was  bent 
On  being  fiercely  jubilant, 

In  '  Eighteen-Sixty -three ;' 
It  proves  the  devil's  harvest  year, 
As  wrote  the  ancient  king  and  seer 

In  book  of  prophesy  ! 

XVIII. 

"  But  see  yon  group  of  merry  faces, 

There  the  genius  of  the  place  is, 

Now  louder  peals  the  laughter, 

By  Jove  !  with  them  how  passing  well 

The  motto — rive  la  bogitelle  ; 
'Tis  Upson  they  are  after  !'' 


10 

XIX. 

To  this  digression  had  he  come, 
My  patron  once  in  lofty  Koine, 

When  first  we  struck  the  earth  ; 
And  taking  ROW  our  bearings,  found 
We'd  hit  the  ':  Hock  House  on  the  Sound," 

A  scene  of  joy  and  mirth. 

XX. 

For  here  our  jovial  landlord  stands, 

A  "  host"  among  a  host  ot  friends, 
As  the  swift  jest  goes  round  ; 
And  swifter  dimes  accumulate, 
From  early  morn  till  evening  late, 
In  merry  tinkling  sound  ! 

XXI. 

lie  hath  a  fund  of  humorous  joke 
To  crack  the  sides  of  honest  folk, 

And  to  dispel  ennui; 
And  tells  them  with  such  naivete, 
And  so  facetiously,  they  say, 

It  stirs  the  fun  right  merrily  ! 

XXII. 

And  now  around  his  festive  board, 
Groaning  with  viands  that  afford 

The  amplest  proof  of  taste, 
Is  seated  many  a  merry  guest, 
To  crack  his  mirth-provoking  jest, 

And  break  his  morning's  fast. 


11 
XXIII. 

For  know  the  Rock  House  on  the  Sound, 
Is  famous  all  the  wide  world  round, 

For  hospitable  fore, 
And  that  its  landlord,  to  forestall 
The  epieurian  wants  of  all, 

Ransacks  earth,  sea,  and  air  ; 

XXIV. 

And  sets  his  tables  groaning  forth 
With  all  the  luxuries  of  the  North, 

As  well  as  tropic  clime-  ;  < 

And  all  that  wealth  and  taste  aftbrd 
To  grace  alike  an  ample  board 

With  beauty  and  with  wine. 

XXV. 

We  register  our  names  as  follow  : — 

I,  "  Peter  Snooks,  of  Snookvillc  Hollow,'' 

Maecenas,  "  Count  D'  Esprit,"' 
And  call  for  twenty  things  at  once, 
A  brandy  smash,  a  whisky  punch, 

A  port-wine  sangarec  ; 

XXVI.  ' 

Two  lemonades  with  "  sticks"  to  match, 
Two  "  cobblers"  without  awl  to  scratch  ; 

Two  "  snifters"  stiff  and  strong  ; 
Two  "  stoughtons,"  and  two  "  brandies  straight," 
Two  nags  with  a  "  two  forty"  gait, 

To  ride  the  hills  amon<r. 


12 

XX  VII. 

For  Rock  House  nags  arc  said  to  be 
As  swift  of  foot  as  Mercury, 

When  wing'd  and  girded  tight, 
Or  swift  as  Puck,  who,  at  his  birth, 
Could  put  a  girdle  round  the  earth, 

In  half  an  hour's  flight ! 

XXVIII. 

I  pray  the  "  critics"  not  to  stare, 
I  only  speak  of  Upson's  fare  ; 

What's  said  about  his  nags, 
May  or  may  not  be  wholly  true, 
Though  if  "  Young  Ed."  could  put  'em  through, 

He'd  no  doubt  take  the  "  rags  !" 

XXIX. 

But  whether  his  nags  be  fast  or  slow, 
One  thing  is  certainly  most  true  : — 

West  Haven  "  saints"  are  faster, 
And  run  a  more  successful  race, 
If  not  to  win  each  Christian  grace, 

At  least  to  win  our  laughter  ! 

•XXX. 

They're  always  on  some  rampage  high, 
Or  in  some  tragic  agony, 

In  hopes  to  make  their  way 
To  heaven  through  expiatory  grace, 
As  if  the  devil  had  no  place 

Reserved  for  such  as  they  ! 


13 

xxx  r, 

Deluded  mortals  !  they  shall  find 
Ilia  sooty  majesty  inclined 

Erelong  to  do  his  will ; 
To  shower  his  tender  mercies  down 
In  fire  and  brimstone  through  iho  town, 

And  give  them  all  their  fill 

XXX  II. 

Of  that  most  dietetic  fare, 
He  has  reserved  for  them  in  store : — 

To  wit,  gridiron  steaks, 
Cut  from  some  tough  old  grisly  boar, 
Or  from  the  rump  of  thief  or  liar, 

Or  other  vile  ingratcs, 

xxxnr. 

Doomed  like  Prometheus  to  bo  torn 
By  vulturous  beak  from  night  tr!l  morn, 

AnJ  still  thiiir  fbsh  rpnow, 
To  gratify  the  insatiate  maw 
Of  wretches  that  forever  gnaw 

At  what  they  can't  gnaw  through ! 

XXXIV. 

For  if  beyond  the  Lethean  wave, 
West  Haven  "  saints"   are  not  to  have 

Their  honest  dues  ;  why,  then 
Sheer  downright   knavery  ought  to  bo 
Encouraged  most  emphatically, 

By  every  poet's  pen  ! 
2 


14 

XXXV. 

And  hanging  ought  to  be  set  forth 
As  recompense  of  honest  worth, 
A  passport  free  to  heaven  ; 
Such  as  the  murderer  might  share 
With  every  culprit,  thief,  and  liar, 
"Without  a  sin  forgiven  ! 

XXXVI. 

But  to  my  TALE,  which  ought  to  be 
Continuous  with  rascality; 

Or  rather,  to  the  tangled  thread 
Of  my  poetical  discourse, 
Which  runs  at  laiidom,  like  a  horse 

TY:o  mettlesome  to  lead! 

XXXVII. 

Maecenas  and  myself  have  dined, 

And  what  is  better  still,  have  "  wined  ;" 

Which  put  us  in  such  jovial  vein, 
That  one  would  almost  s \vear  who  knew  us, 
'Twas  Upson's  fare  alone  that  drew  us 
Prom  Pluto's  realm  to  earth  again. 

XXXVIII. 

But  this  were  libel  on  Maecenas, 
As  kissing  Dido  was  on  /Eneas, 

Although  the  poet  swears, 
(I  mean  the  Mantuan  bard)  that  they 
Kissed  through  the  live-long  night,  till  day 

Swung  wide  its  golden  bars! 


15 

XXXIX. 

And  were,  beside?,  a  jump  too  far 
At  false  conclusion;  for  the  war 

That  now  so  desolates  the  land 
With  fire  and  sword  and  carnage  wild, 
Where  slain  on  slain  promiscuous  piled, 

Are  seen  on  every  hand, 

XL. 

Is  what  first  drew  us  to  the  shores, 
Famed  for  its  literary  "bores,"' 

And  intellectual  women 
Of  the  blue-stocking  stripe,  who  share 
The  burdens  of  the  State,  and  wear 

All  sorts  of  gear  and  trimming  ! 

XLI. 

For  instance,  llie  "coal-scuttle"  bonnet, 
With  flaunting  flowers  enough  upon  it 

To  cover  a  prairie  over, 
And  faces  dimpling  underneath 
With  smiles  like  Circe's,  fraught  with  death, 

To  unsuspecting  lover ! 

XLH. 

And  "  bloomer,"  worn  by  spinster  maids, 
To  palm  their  drumsticks  oft*  for  legs 

On  some  greenhorn  or  other, 
Who  never  dream pt  before  to  see 
Such  (;  sights"  of  rare  "  agility  " 

Displayed  to  friend  or  lover! 


1C 

XLIII. 

But  fancied  women  folks  wore  made, 
Like  French  preserves  or  marmalade, 

Of  sweatmcats  rich  and  rare, 
Whose  virtues  were  to  be  concealed, 
Or  tasted  only  when  revealed 

At  wedding,  feast,  or  fair  ! 

XLIV. 

But  to  my  tale.     Our  dinner  through, 
We  took  a  stroll  a  mile  or  two, 

And  came  into  the  town, 
Wherein  we  found  a  group  of  people 
Inside  a  church  without  a  steeple, 

Putting  "  disunion"  down ! 

XLV. 

The  plan  for  doing  this  was  new, 
Novel,  and  most  ingenious  too, 

As  few  with  me  will  doubt ; 
It  was  to  keep  the  church  together, 
In  every  kind  of  wind  and  weather, 

By  keeping  "  Christians"  out ! 

XLVI. 

And  to  prevent  "  secession,"  rule 
All  members  out,  however  full 

The  church  might  chance  to  be  ; 
And  then  appoint  an  "  agent  sole," 
With  full  and  absolute  control 

Of  all  church  property  ! 


17 

XLVIt 

With  summary  power  to  bar  the  doors, 
Tear  up  the  carpets  from  the  floors, 

And  nail  the  windows  down  ; 
Purloin  the  plate,  the  alter  rive, 
Smash  stoves  and  organ  pipe?,  and  drive 

The  parson  out  of  town. 

XLVIII. 

Such  powers  as  these  were  deemed  to  b.v 
Essential  to  church  unity  ; 

And  if  enforced  in  season, 
Might  save  the  church  from  every  rent 
The  envious  "  Cascas  "  could  invent, 

With  all  their  hated  "treason"? 

XLIX. 

It  seems  the  clerk,  who  read  the  law?, 
Was  posted  up  in  all  the  flaws ; 

Especially  in  this: — 
That  none  could  ever  member  be 
Of  any  church  however  free, 
Without  request  of  his, 

L. 

First  duly  and  in  writing  made, 
(Before  some  legal  meeting  had,) 

To  clerk  or  clerk  pro  (em.; 
And  run  the  gauntlet  of  a  vot<-, 
Or  chances  of  a  nem.  con.  note, 

Entered  by  clerkly  pen. 


19 

LI. 

Discovering  this  most  potent  flaw, 
Latent  or  patent  in  the  law, 

This  astute  Christian  clerk, 
With  pious  motive,  not  for  pelf, 
At  once  devoutly  set  himself 

With  three  M.  D's  to  work  ! 

LJI. 

The  church  though  small  had  grown  to  be 
Quite  rich  in  gifts  and  legacy, 

And  hence  they  all  decide 
(I  mean  the  clerk  and  three  M.  D's) 
To  keep  the  records  and  the  keys 

Where  none  could  filch  or  hide  ; 

LIU. 

Or  rather  none  but  such  as  they, 
Who  could,  'tis  said,  both  filch  and  pray 

Devoutly  for  the  nonce; 
Or  wear  an  equally  long  face 
At  shaving  notes,  or  saying  grace, 

Or  doing  both  at  once. 

LIV-. 

But  there  was  still  another  "flaw5', 
Or  rather,  stubborn  fact  of  law, 

Which  made  them  ill  at  ease  ; 
And  it  was  this,  (the  fact  I  state 
To  show  their  case  was  desperate,} 

The  parson  had  the  keys! 


LV. 

This  was  a  "  clincher"  to  the  clerk, 
A.9  he  had  learned  from  lawyer  Q-r.rk, 

The  manJDf  quip  and  ftaw  ; 
Who  from  his  musty  books  had  found 
Possession,  with  the  keys,  was  crowned 

As  "  nine  points  of  the  law.  " 

LVI. 

But  "  nothing  venture,  nothing  have  '', 
Was  BA*iv«*-t's  motto;  so  he  gave 

Direction  to  purloin  the  keys 
To  Dr.  A-k^e,  who  chanced  to  bo 
The  biggest  rascal  of  the  three. — 

That  is.  t,be  three  M,  DV. 

LVH. 

But  not  the  biggest  ot  the  four, 
As  you'll  admit  with  me  before 

You've  read  my  "  Knaviad"  through} 
For  though  the  doctor's  sins  were  rank 
And  smelt  to  heaven,  he  was  frank, 

And  true  to  friend  as  foe. 

LVIII. 

Not  so  with  B — n — t.     He  could  smile 
On  friend  or  foe  with  equal  guile, 

And  stab  with  equal  grace 
A  Christian  friend  behind  his  back, 
Or  heathen  foe  upon  his  track, 

If  not  met  face  to  face. 


20 

LIX. 

His  neighbors  often  wondered  why 
He  never  looked  .them  iu  the  eye, 

And  guessed  the  cause  in  vain  ; 
For  diagnosis  would  have  shown 
Them  this  disease,  and  this  alone — 

Strabismus  on  (he  brain  ! 

LX. 

Or  "mental  squinting,"  much  the  same 
As  what  we  sec  in  certain  game, 

For  instance,  in  the  ounce  ; 
Or  in  sly  reynard,  which,  pursued 
By  hound  and  hunter  through  the  wood, 

Looks  forty  ways  at  once  ! 

LX1. 

But  A  -! ' :  *-  s  soon  found  his  task  to  be 
More  difficult  than  either  he 

Or  B^t-n-^thad  surmised, 
For  parson  Z-£41had  "smelt  the  rat," 
Or  rather  guessed  what  they  were  at> 

With  all  their  craft  disguised. 

LXI1. 

And  so  he  went,  as  rumor  states, 
And  of  his  keys  got  duplicates, 

To  guard  against  surprise  ; 
And  had  them  safely  laid  away 
Against  what's  called  a  "rainy  day/' 

In  metaphor's  disguise. 


21 

LXIII. 

But  time  rolled  on  as  time  will  roll. 
When  there's  no  Joshua  of  old 

To  stay  its  fiery  car, 
And  soon  it  brought  them,  in  its  course, 
The  appointed  hour  to  rehears 3 

The  music  of  the  choir. 

LXIV. 

Forth  to  the  parsonage  they  go, 
The  doctor  and  his  '-doxies"  two. 

All  of  the  choir  of  course  ; 
And  chuckling  hugely  in  their  sleeves, 
Say  to  the  pa"so:i,  "By  your  leaves 

The  keys,  sir,  to  rehearse  !" 

LXV. 

The  parson  blandly  hands  them  to  'ern, 
(How  could  he  help  it,  since  he  knew  'em 

All  of  ttie  choir  to  be  I) 
When,  after  taking  time  to  sing. 
They  hand  him  back  his  "private"'  string, 

Minus  the  church-door  key. 

LXV  I. 

"With  this  adroitly-managed  theft, 
There's  nothing  more,"  bays  IK^n^t,  "left 

For  us,  the  church,  to  do  ; 
'We've  got  'em  in  the  'nine  holes'  tight 
And  now  we'll  put  this  lawyer  Wrff ht 

Ar.d  parlor,  Z-^-ll  both  through  ! 


LXVII. 

•'On  Sunday  next  they'll  fmd  the  churcl* 
Has  kindly  left  them  in  the  lurch, 

With  all  their  gifts  of  grace; 
Without  so  much  as  a  dormouse 
To  svelcomc  them  within  the  house, 

So  snug  we've  got  the  place. 

LXVI1I. 

«I5u_{Shi±-n  win  su-car  and  Wr-^-ht  will  curse, 

And  parson  Z-&-11  do  something  worse, 

Neglect  his  daily  prayers  ; 
While  Mrs.  Z.  will  vent  her  spleen, 
Look  daggers  at  us  o'er  the  green, 

And  put  on  queenly  airs  ! 

LX1X. 

"Next  Sunday  morn  will  see  1em  scarce., 
Or  rather  see  a  downright  farce 

Verging  on  tragic  mood  ; 
Some  fifty  Z— llites  tearing  mad, 
And  swearing  vengeance  on  the  head 

Of  B-^-n— t  and  ot  W— d . 

LXX. 

"  'Twill  l>e  a  most  stupendous  joke, 

And  how  they'll  rave,  and  fume,  and  choke, 

With  their im vented  spleen; 
'Twould  pay  for  pilgrimage  to  Rome, 
Only  to  see  the  Z-^llites  come 

Next  Sunday,  on  the  green." 


LXXL 

And  B^n^t  rubbed  his  hands  the  while, 
And  grinned  a  most  sardonic  smile, 

(Satan  might  do  as  much.) 
Yes,  grinned  a  "ghastly  smile."  and  swore 
He  never  laughed  as  much  before, 

Inside  or  out  of  Church  ! 

Lxxir. 

It  was  arranged  they  all  should  be 
At  B^-n-^t's  house,  the  farce  to  see, 

Early  on  Sunday  morn; 
And  when  the  hour  for  church  came  round, 
The  knavish  conclave  all  were  found 

There, jubilant — "in  a  horn!" 

LXXIII. 

For  hardly  had  they  got  together, 

And  made  their  comments  on  the  weather, 

Before  they  saw  the.  smoke 
<T!O  curling  from  the  chimney  flue 
In  merry  wreaths,  as  if  it  knew 

The  purport  of  their  '-joke  !" 

LXXIV. 

And  then  the  Church's  merry  bell 
Pealed  forth  its  laughter  loud  and  shrill, 

And  made  the  very  air 
Sonorous  with  its  mirthful  glee, 
As  if  in  merriment  to  see 

The  "Jeremy  Diddlers"  stare ! 


LXXV. 

As  stare  they  did  through  window  pane, 
With  lowering  looks,  as  o'er  the  green 

They  saw  the  Z-Mlites  go 
And  enter  straight  within  the  door, 
AVhose  lock  was  never  poked  before, 

By  craft  of  imp  below  ! 

LXXVI. 

The  doctor's  horse  tied  to  a  post 

In  front  of  U-^n-^-t's,  .seemed  quite  lost, 

Amid  the  general  stare 
And  wonderment  the  house  was  in; 
And  champed  his  bit  with  bitter  grin, 

O'er  his  post-prandial  fare! 

LXXVIJ. 

And  E^^i-^-Cs  dog  ran  yelping  forth, 

Reflecting  all  his  master's  wrath 
'Gainst  every  cur  that  past; 
And  finding  nothing  else  to  bite, 
Grew  fierce  and  furious  at  the  sight 
Of  his  own  tail  at  last, 

LXXVIII. 

Which  seizing  fast  within  his  teetii, 
As  some  vile  thing  deserving  death, 

He  gave  it  such  a  gripe, 
That,  like  his  master's  lengthened  laughter, 
His  tail  was  curtailed  ever  after, 

Or  vanished  out  of  sight! 


25 

LXXIX. 

And  as  the  story  spread  abroad, 
The  town  froin  end  to  end  guffawed 

Incessantly  on  Monday  ; 
And  grinned  a  universal  grin, 
To  think  how  D — n — t's  "laugh"  came  in 

So  lacrymose  on  Sunday  ! 

LXXX. 

But  every  farce  must  have  an  end, 
As  every  river  has  a  bend, 

And  every  youth  a  "  bender  ;" 

•t      •/ 

And  now  the  clerk  decides  to  call 
Another  meeting,  to  make  all 
Opposed  to  them  surrender, 

LXXXI. 

Or  "  strike  their  colors  "  in  the  fight, 
Whether  or  not  within  the  right; 

And  so  he  posts  a  call 
On  all  such  members,  good  and  true, 
As  had  been  "  legally  "  put  through, 

To  meet  at  church  or  hall. 

LXXXI1. 

The  day  at  length  arrived,  and  they, 
The  astute  clerk  and  M.  D's.  three, 

Came  promptly  up  to  time; 
A^s,  who'd  been  chairman  once  before, 
Could  find  no  chair,  so  took  the  floor, 

Looking  both  gruff  and  grim. 
3 


26 

LXXXIII. 

He  said  the  meeting  wished  to  know 

What  parson  Z-^-ll  was  going  to  do, 

Resign  or  keep  at  work, 
Against  the  wishes  of  Me  C*«fc— rjr, 
W^-d,  (  seven-by-nine  apothecary,) 

Hi-u-e,  W^n-4w\  and  the  clerk! 

LXXX1V. 

These,  with  himself,  he  claimed  to  be 
The  church  in  toto  and  per  sc ; 

The  rest  were  mere  outsiders, 
With  no  more  right  to  worship  there, 
Or  vote  for  minister  or  choir, 

Than  other  church  deriders. 

LXXXV. 

This  little  outside  fling  or  slur, 
Brought  lawyer  Wr-+-fht  upon  the  floor, 

A  churchman  "  clad  in  mail," 
Who  hurled  such  thundering  vollies  forth, 
Of  adjectives  and  direful  wrath, 

As  made  the  "  conclave  "  quail. 

LXXXVI. 
He  told  them  to  their  teeth  ou' right, 

He'd  have  his  rights  cost  what  they  might, 

No  force  should  put  him  down, 
Nor  artifice  nor  trickster's  tricks, 
And  if  it  came  to  blows  and  kicks, 
He'd  see  the  thing  "  tried  on." 


27 

LXXXVII. 

The  "  conclave"  tried,  but  tried  in  vain, 
To  thump  him  down  with  heel  and  cane, 

'Mid  cries  of  "  Order,"  "  Order ;" 
His  voice  still  swept  above  the  din, 
And  wild  confusion  they  were  in, 

As  bugle  swept  the  Border, 

LXXXVIII, 

When  furious  clansmen,  Rallying  forth, 
Scoured  those  regions  of  the  North 

Where  recreant  foemen  came, 
All  worthy  of  an  honest  glaive  ; 
And  not  like  skulking,  coward  knave, 

Too  dastardly  to  name. 

LXXXIX. 

But  nothing  daunted  there  he  stood, 
Confronting  B^n^t.  A-wfc,  and  W^d, 

As  hound  confronts  a  pack 
Of  prairie  wolves — the  brindled  breed, 
Who  ravenous  and  full  of  greed, 

All  honest  courage  lack. 

XC. 

For  hours,  'tis  said,  he  kept  the  floor. 
And  might  have  kept  it  many  more, 

Or  till  the  crack  of  doom, 
For  ought  they  knew  ;  and  so  to-turn 
The  tables  on  him,  they  adjourn 

Over  to  B-^-n-^t's  room. 


28 

XCI. 

The  "  conclave"  gone,  order  began 
To  reign  in  Warsaw ;  and  there  ran 

A  murmur  of  applause 
Throughout  the  church  to  see  them  go, 
And  all  cried  out,  "  Good  riddance  to 

The  marplots  and  their  cause." 

XCIF. 

The  shuffling  knaves  gone  from  the  pack, 
The  church  once  more  may  welcome  back 

Her  former  Christian  graces  ; 
No  choir  to  giggle  during  prayers, 
No  Dr.  A^*s  to  smoke  cigars 

Or  make  up  monkey  faces, 

XCIII. 

No  loud  "  ahems  !"  when  members  went 
To  kneel  at  holy  sacrament, 

No  peering  through  a  hat, 
Nor  greeting  of  the  Bishop's  prayer 
For  Peace  and  Union,  with  the  sneer — 

"  Never  amen  to  that !" 

XCIV. 

Such  vile  disturbances  as  these, 
Approved  of  in  the  galleries 

By  B^n-^-t,  W^d,  and  others, 
Were  straightway  trumpeted  abroad. 
To  show  how  Z-*-ll  must  be  abhored 

By  all  his  Christian  brothers ! 


29 

XCV. 

'Tis  said  a  vain  and  stupid  ass 
Once  for  u  lion  tried  to  pas*, 

The  monarch  of  the  plain, 
And  so  he  got  a  lion's  skin 
To  wrap  his  valliant  carcass  in, 

And  brayed  with  might  and  main. 

XCV  I. 

But  the  impostcr  was  no  dovibt 
Known  by  his  long  cars  peering  out ; 

So  with  the  knaves  I  mention, 
Who  stole  the  livery  of  the  court 
Of  heaven,  as  a  last  resorf, 

Tt»  serve  the  devil  in  ! 

xcvu. ' 

But  hero  the  Muse  would  improvise 
A  strain  or  two  on  Il-t-tt-^e  I-^-s, 

The  doctor's  famed  soprano, 
Or  rather  on  the  famous  choir 
In  which  she  giggled  during  prayer, 

'Mid  fumes  of  rank  Ilabano, 

XCVJII. 

Hark  !  the  music,  how  they  snort  it ! 
Duet,  trio,  quintet,  quartet, 

All  in  one  tremendous  wave  ; 
Voices  quivering,  voices  quavering, 
Voices  trembling,  voices  shaking, 

All  up  and  down  the  stave! 
2* 


30 

XCIX. 

How  they  now  relieve  their  throat* 
Of  their  nasal-twanging  notes, 

Ye  gods !  what  music  flows ! 
Enough  to  make  one  "soar  away 
To  rapture  and  eternal  clay," 

'Mid  their  ecstatic  throes ! 

C. 

Oh,  ye  shades  of  Haydn,  Mozart ! 
Yours  was  but  a  vulgar  prose-art, 

When  compared  to  theirs ; 
With  diminished  heads  knock  under 
To  the  more  harmonious  thunder 

Of  Dr.  A^s's  choirs ! 

CI. 

But  the  muse  has  no  desire 
To  exhaust  her  treasured  fire 

On  Becthoevens  here ; 
She  would  rather  make  a  dash  on 
Something  more  in  vogue  or  fashion. 

For  this  humbug  year. 

CII. 

For  instance,  on  a  certain  "vile 
Apothecary,"  full  of  bile, 

Lampooned  by  "honest  Will," 
I  mean  Will  Shakespeare,  in  whose  muge 
All  rascals  get  their  honest  dues, 

And  get  them  to  their  fill. 


31 

CUT. 

This  nostrum  vender,  it  is  said, 
For  honest  inventory,  had 

"A  beggarly  account 
Of  empty  boxes,"  labelled  ever 
With  scraps  of  Latin,  just  to  cover 

Their  emptiness  about ! 

CIV. 

And  was  withal,  lean,  lank,  and  shriveled, 
And  what  was  more,  a  little  driveled 

About  his  upper  story, 
Or  in  his  "attic;"  though  his  tongue 
Was  on  a  perfect  swivel  hung, 

And  ran  to  oratory  ! 

cv. 

He  used  to  talk  so  wondrous  wise, 
Use  words  of  such  equestrian  size, 

And  look  withal  so  grim, 
The  common  people  stood  agape 
In  wonder  that  his  "pericarp" 

Contained  so  much  within  ! 

CVI. 

And  yet,  'tis  said,  his  brains  ran  forth 
In  empty  nothings — nothing  worth ; 

Or  ambled  like  a  nag 
That  has  the  spring-halt  "on  the  brain," 
Or  in  each  limb  and  joint  the  same 

As  in  each  limping  leg ! 


32 

CVlf. 

Some  envious  neighbors  here  and  there, 
Familiar  with  this  "Shakespeare  rare," 

And  with  his  avis  rare, 
Would  point  to  one  of  Z-Mi's  chief  foes, 
And  say  within  themselves,  there  goes 

That  "vile  apothecary  •'' 

CVIII. 

But  to  return.     The  meeting  through, 
It  was  arranged,  and  that  in  \iew 

Of  sundry  thefts  committed, 
To  keep  a  cautious  watch  that  night, 
And  see  that  every  thing  was  "right," 

Or  rather  duly  (  W)  righted! 

C1X. 

So  they  appointed  a  committee. 
And  forthwith  sent  into  the  city, 

To  get  a  look  and  key, 
With  which  to  make  the  church  door  fast, 
Against  each  arrant  knave  that  past, 

In  quest  of  robbery  ! 

CX. 

But  while  at  this,  the  "agent  sole" 
Came  down  "like  wolf  upon  the  fold," 

And  ordered  all  to  leave 
The  church  forthwith,  or  have  their  nife«J 
Of  law  and  warrant  visited 

Upon  them,  past  retrieve  ! 


33 

CXI. 

As  law  nor  warrant  he  had  none, 
They  promptly  bid  him  to  be  gone, 

But  showed  htm  first  the  door; 
And  when  the  "agent  sole"  went  forth, 
The  "church''  from  out  ihe  church,  in  wrath, 

He  threatened  all  the  more. 

CXII. 

And  soon  returned  with  Dr.  A^s, 
Holding  new  penalties  and  pains 

O'er  each  recusant  head, 
Demanding  "seizin"  of  his  own, 
Since  he  comprised  the  church  alone, 

As  "agent  aforesaid  !" 

CXII  I. 

Ha^-tsh^-n  he  laughed,  and  Wr-^ht  he  looked, 
As  if  in  "seizin"  he  was  booked, 

And  jokingly  replied, 
If  B^u-^t  was  the  church  alone, 
The  church  outside  the  church  they'd  turn, 

And  see  what  was  inside  ! 

exiv. 

Night's  .-able  dragons  soon  came  down 
To  swart  the  air  about  the  town, 

And  revel  in  its  gloom  ; 
To  close  the  eye-lids  of  the  day, 
Seal  up  the  past  eternity, 

Or  bide  the  crack  of  doom. 


34 

cxv. 

Within  the  church,  whose  solemn  nave 
Had  neither  arch  nor  architrave, 

Nor  spire  nor  dome  for  cover, 
Three  persons  sat  the  long  night  through, 
The  one  to  watch  the  other  two, 

The  two  to  watch  the  other. 

CXV  I. 

These  three,  were  B^n^-t,  A'-^s,  and  Wr 
Whose  deeds  of  choler  to  indite 

The  Muse  will  now  proceed. 
Though  of  material  she  has  none 
But  what  uDame  Rumor"  seized  upon, 

As  through  the  town  she  sped. 

cxvir. 

A&^s,  freed  from  matrimonial  halter, 
Seeks  refuge  first  within  the  altar, 

Then  barricades  the  door  ; 
While  Wr — lit,  as  if  to  s-how  his  spunk, 
Extemporizes,  first  a  ''bunk," 

And  then,  lays  down  to  snore  ! 

CXV1II. 

Meanwhile  the  "  church  "  or  :t  agent  s»Ja, 
Goes  forth  to  skirmish  or  patrol 

His  parish  precincts  through, 
In  hopes,  with  aid  of  boy  and  horse, 
To  rally  forth  sufficient  force 

To  force  Wr— 4it  from  his  pew. 


35 

CXIX. 

But  first  (the  fact  I  ought  to  mention,) 
His  "burning"  coal-pit  needs  attention; 

So  forthwith  he  essays 
To  smother  the  fires  the  pit  within, 
But  not  the  fires  that  fire  him, 

And  set  him  all  a-blaze! 

cxx. 

And  after  having  squelched  the  flames 
Within  the  pit,  he  thought  of  A1tii*s, 

And  then  of  Dr.  W"-d, 
And  somehow  coupled  in  his  mind 
All  three  together,  as  you  bind 

A  tense  to  varying  mood  ! 

CXXl. 

And  then  he  thought-— the  night  was  dark- 
How  mad  and  fiercely  rose  each  spark 

From  out  his  pit  on  fire; 
How  blue  the  flaine*,  and  how  malign 
The  light  they  gave,  and  then,  in  fine, 

lie  thought  of  his  own  ire ! 

CXXII. 

And  wondered  if  the  fiends  below 
Had  any  thing  at  all  to  do 

With  this  night's  work  of  theirs  ; 
And  here  his  dog  set  up  a  howl, 
A*  if  some  dismal  ghost  or  ghoul 

Were  flaying  both  his  ears ! 


36 

CXXIII. 

He  found  his  knees  were  getting  weak, 
And  when  ho  mustered  strength  to  speak 

At  length  to  his  own  cur, 
His  tongue  was  absolutely  glued 
Between  his  lips,  and  like  his  blood 

Seemed  powerless  to  stir ! 

CXXIY. 

But  he    returns  at  length  to  find 
The  doctor  watering  his  mind 

With  consecrated  grape, 
Which  he,  no  doubt,  had  tali  en  freely, 
To  judge  him  from  his  really  reely, 

'Locomotive  slate ! 

cxxv. 

It  seems  the  doctor  felt  quite  sure 
Of  wine  behind  the  vestry  door, 

Within  the  parson's  cupboard  ; 
And  hoping  not  to  find  it  "  bore," 
Or  void  of  all  intrinsic  fare, 

As  did  "Old  Mother  Hubbard," 

CVXX1. 

The  famous  one  she  looked  into  ; 

He  promptly  smashed  the  cupboard  through, 

And  lo  !  there  met  his  eye 
Two  jolly  dimijohns  quite  full, 
At  which  he  took  a  lengthened  pull, 

Or  "  swig  upon  the  sly.  " 


37 

CXXV1I. 

And  now  they  crack  their  stalest  jokes 
O'n  Z-^ll  arid  sundry  other  folks, 
Especially  on  Wr^-ht, 

V 

Whom  they  could  represent  full  well 
As  being  the  "  sleepy  sentinel,  " 
Upon  that  wakeful  night. 

CXXV111. 

At  this  stale  joke,  Wr*4ht  gives  a  snore 
That  shakes  the  rafter?,  to  ignore 

His  truly  wakeful  state  ; 
Then,  to  suppress  his  laughter,  blows 
A  blast  terrific  from  his  nose, 

Their  mirth  to  irrigate  ! 

CXX1X. 

A  while  thus  spent,  and  Dr.  W-^d 
Drops  in  to  see  what  state  the  feud, 

Or  church  broil,  might  be  in  ; 
And  ratling  of  a  "  yarn"  or  two 
Of  his  own  manufacture,  threw 

Himself  into  a  grin. 

CXXX. 

If  grin  it  might  be  called  that  drew 
His  face  into  a  rat-tailed  screw, 

Less  round  perhaps  than  thin ; 
And  made  him  look  for  all  the  world, 
As  if  a  monkey's  tail  wero  quirled, 

In  spirals,  round  his  chin  ! 
4 


38 

CXXXI. 

The  doctor's  stay  was  short  and  brief; 
He  had  no  doubt  a  vague  belief 

There'd  be  a  bloody  fight ; 
And  so  he  tore  himself  away, 
To  fight  prehaps  another  day, 

But  not  upon  that  night. 

CXXXII. 

This  "  brave  apothecary  "  gone, 
Ba>u.£Lt  and  A^Ms  are  left  alone, 

With  Wr^4-ht,  the  seventh  doser  ; 
And  though  they  plan  on  plan  propose 
To  thrust  him  forth,  or  tweak  his  nose, 

Each  plan  but  proves  a  "  poser." 

CXXXIII. 

j\M.s  swears  he's  armed  up  to  his  teeth, 
With  dirks,  revolvers,  knives  and  death, 

And  thinks  his  sleep  a  sham; 
A  lure  to  lead  to  bloody  brawl, 
Or  possibly  to  hi$  own  fall 

By  punctured  diaphragm  ! 

CXXXIV. 

He  thinks  the  "  agent "  ought  to  try 
To  raise  "  recruits,"  or  send  a  spy 

Into  his  "  bunk  "  or  camp, 
And  seize  all  weapons  "  contraband 
Of  war  "  that  he  may  have  on  hand, 

And  "  confiscate  "  the  scamp  ! 


30 

CXXXV. 

But  as  the  fate  of  every  spy 
Is  death  by  halter,  Hainan-high, 

They  both  declined  to  go 
Within  his  camp,  but  hit  the  plan 
Of  "  forced  conscription  '•  to  a  man, 

The  parish  precincts  through  ! 

CXXXV  f. 

So  Bft*rn-*A  scours  the  parish  wide, 

From  Painter's  Rocks  to  "  Dew-Drop  "  sido, 

But  scour?,  alas,  in  vain  ! 
For  as  in  love,  so  those  in  war. 
Once  hoisted  with  their  own  pctanL 

Refuse  to  fight  again. 

CXXXVII. 

After  a  fruitless  night  half  spent 
Upon  the 'errand  he  was  bent, 

The  "  church  "  returns  at  last; 
And  getting  down  from  off  its  crupper, 
Gets  up  a  reverent  oyster  supper, 

For  A^s  and  its  repast ! 

CXXXVIII. 

ThiSj  being  reverently  brought 
Where  no  live  oyster  ever  thought 

Of  being  brought  before, 
(To  wit,  within  the  chancel.)  they, 
The  "church"  and  A^s,  gulp  down,  and  say, 

<v  By  heavens!  how  Wr-4-ht  does  snore  ! 


40 

CXXX1X. 

As  snore  he  did  with  might  and  main, 
Since  playing  "possum"  was  his  game 

With  knaves,  in  church. or  out ; 
And  when  the  first  faint  streaks  of  day- 
Revealed  the  game  that  they  would  play. 

His  "  possum ''  eyes  -were  shut ! 

CXL. 

Failing  to  get  the  aid  they  sought 
Within  the  church  to  help  them  out, 

They  go  to  parson  Bry^n, 
Or  rather  to  his  church,  and  get 
Two  "  bullies,"  square-built  and  thick-set. 

Their  strength  their  foe  to  try  on ! 

CXLI. 
Seeing  this  "  bully  "  force  arrayed 

Within  the  church,  Wr-^-ht  undismayed, 
v 

Arose  from  out  his  "  bunk  ;" 
Yet  for  a  moment  rubbed  his  eyes, 
As  if  quite  taken  by  surprise, 

Or  "slightually"  drunk! 

CXLI!. 

And  then  he  drew  from  out  his  pocket 
A  knife  with  a  tremendous  socket, 

Yet  more  tremendous  blade ; 
And  coolly  picked  his  teeth,  to  show 
The  uses  it  could  be  put  to 

In  peace,  as  bloody  raid  ! 


41 

CXLIII. 

The  "church"  now  takes  another  tack. 

Resolves  itself,  itself  to  sack, 

Or  gut  from  stem  to  stern; 
And  seizing  every  tiling  in  sight, 
In  way  of  movables,  but  Wr*-f-ht, 

V 

The  church  outride  they  turn  ! 

CXLIV. 

So  having  cleared  the  church  at  last, 
And  nailed  the  windows  tight  and  fast, 

And  the  old  organ  smashed  ; 
They  undertake  to  try  their  strength 
Upon  the  stalwart  Wr-^-ht  at  length, 

Whose  eyes  indignant  flashed. 

CXLV. 

\Vitliin  the  vestibule  he  stood 
Jn"sullen,  grim,  and  wrathful  rnood. 

And  eyed  his  Iocs  askance ; 
Deeming  the  five  but  half  a  match 
Jn  any  honest  fight  or  scratch, 

Where  "  science "'  had  a  chance  ! 

CXLV1. 

But  he  no  doubt  mistook  their  aim, 

In  fancying  "  bully"  Wr£t£d  was  "game," 

For  the  first  blow  he  gave 
Was  "foul,"  as  any  knave  would  swear, 
Who  e'er  saw  fight  at  "Donnie  Fair,'' 

Or  wore  an  honest  glaive ! 
4* 


42 

CXLVII. 

Instead  of  sparring  for  the  nonce ; 
Like  "  loons"  they  all  pitched  in  atonoe, 

Which  made  him  still  more  wrotb, 
And  when  they  seized  him  by  the  hair, 
It  no  doubt  made  him  rip  and  swear 

A  most  unchristian  oatli ! 

cxLviir. 

The  fight  waxed  furiously  at  last ; 
Heels  flew  in  air,  and  blows  fell  fast, 

And  louder  grew  the  din  ; 
Twas  evident  a  storm  was  brewing, 
Potent  alike  of  wrath  and  ruin, 

That  gray  old  church  within  ! 

CXLIX. 

But  every  contest  has  its  close 
When  once  it  comes  to  direful  blows, 

What  e'er  its  end  or  aim; 
Though  five  to  one  is  such  a  tussle, 
Was  rather  shabbier  proof  of  muscle, 

Than  some  might  care  to  claim  ! 

CL 

And  now  the  story  of  the  fight 
Goes  forth  in  colors  all  bedight. 

And  flics  from  door  to  door ; 
Each  rumor  follows  rumor's  track, 
And  in  its  turn  comes  hurrying  back 

With  fifty  rumors  more  I 


43 

CLI. 

As  when  a  patient  chanced  to  throw 
Up  something  once  just  like  a  crow, 

In  color — not  in  feather, 
Forthwith  from  house  to  house  it  flew 
That  ho  had  vomited  up  two 

Prodigious  crows  together! 

CUT. 

So  now  the  story  flew  abroad 
That  Wr— hi  had  flogged  the  "  bully  " 

And  half  a  dozen  more ; 
And  from  >the  nave  within  the  church, 
Had  given  all  the  knaves  the  lurch, 

By  bolting  through  the  door ! 

CLIII. 

That,  with  his  spectacles  on  nose, 
He  dealt  such  furious,  blinding  blows 

Upon  each  separate  sconce, 
That  they  went  staggering  o'er  the  green, 
As  if  their  dubious  eyes  had  seen 

A"  thousand  stars  at  once  ! 

CUV. 

But  this  no  doubt  exaggerates 
As  to  the  blows  upon  their  pate*, 

For  they  could  never  bear  it ; 
Although  'tis  true,  when  WiN-v-ht  first  threw 
His  left  at  "bully  "  W«^d,  he  drew 

Full  half  a  rmig  of  claret ! 


44 

CLV. 

But  this  was  not  so  "  foul  "  a  blow 

As  that  which  knocked  the  cupboard  through., 

The  very  night  before  ; 
Nor  was  it  quite  so  foul  a  crime 
As  guzzKng  consecrated  wine 

Behind  the  vestry  door  ! 

CLV  I. 

This  skriinmage  over,  parson  Z-^-ll 
Writes  to  the  Bishop  what  befell 

His  church  upon  that  night ; 
Imploring  him,  by  all  that's  good, 
To  visit  his  vile  neighborhood, 

And  "  exorcise  "  it  quite  ! 

CLVII. 

The  "  conclave"  also  write  to  know 
Jf  B^n-^-t,  or  their  "  church,"  can't  do 

Whatever  their  church  pleases; 
And  seem  to  be  in  quite  a  huff, 
To  think  when  B^n-^t  takes  his  snuff', 

"Pis  not  the  church  that  sneeze*  ! 

CLV  III. 

The  Bishop  hastens  to  report, 
That  he'll  immediately  resott 

To  this  recusant  charge, 
With  four  Assessors  to  decide 
Wl  at  they  shall  do,  by  what  abide, 

In  church  affairs  at  large. 


45 

CLIX. 

The  day  appointed,  he  arrives, 

And  takes  the  '-church"  quite  by  surprise, 

As  he  demands  the  keys 
And  all  church  muniments,  t  j  show 
That  B — n — t  and  the  church  are  two, 

In  his,  the  Bishop's  eyes. 

CLX. 

He  brings  along  Assessors  four, 

All  grave  and  reverend,  with  the  power 

To  sit  with  him  and  try 
This  "case,"  so  knotty  and  so  full 
Of  "legal"  points,  that  one  might  pull 

A  hundred  o'er  each  eye  ! 

CLXI. 

Two  doctors  and  two  reverends,  from 
The  nearest  or  adjacent  town, 

Make  up  the  board  of  triers  ; 
Their  names  I  ought  perhaps  to  state, 
To  make  the  record  as  complete 

As  history  requires ! 

CLX  1 1. 

BtLi'ds-^y,  II**w-^d,  Dr-^n  and 
All  quite  reverend  and  used  to 

Questions  vexed  and  knotty, 
Sit  with  the  Bishop,  reverend  seignior, 
In  lofty,  sad,  yet  stern  demeanor, 

On  this  case  so  "spotty 


46 

CLXIII. 

And  leprous''  with  disease  and  death, 
To  all  church  increase,  life,  and  wealth, 

As  well  as  Christian  graces ; 
And  for  six  mortal  hours,  they 
Question,  deliberate,  and  pray, 

With  fixed,  repellant  faces ! 

CLXIV. 

They  sternly  question  B-"-n-^-t  first, 
And  wish  to  know  what  "fiend  accurst" 

Inspired  this  deadly  feud ; 
He,  slinking  down  into  his  boots, 
With  voice  scarce  audible,  deputes 

For  speaker — Dr.  W-^d  ! 

CLXV. 

The  doctor  tries  to  state  their  caso, 
But  "brings  up"  in  a  wild-goose  chase, 

Or  helter-skelter  ramble; 
A  kind  of  mental  steeple-chasing, 
Where  horses  "of  all  sorts"  are  racing 

In  one  wild  skimble-skamble  ! 

CLXVI. 

'Tis  "point  all  no  point"  in  his  mind, 
Or  mental  labor  of  that  kind, 

Lampooned  in  fable  nice, 
Showing  how  hand  the  mountains  strain. 
And  how  prolific  is  their  pain, 

When  they  give  birth  to  mice  ! 


47 

CLXVII. 

Of  parson  Z — 11  he  speaks  quite  chary, 
Yet  claims  to  be  as  really  sorry 

To  part  with  him  as  any  ; 
He's  liked  him  long,  and  woull  like  longer, 
If  he  was  what  he  should  be — younger, 

With  all  Ins  gifts  so  many. 

CLXVJI1. 

An  upright,  stainless  life  he  led, 
A  Christian  both  in  word  and  deed, 

A  man  who  lived  for  heaven  ; 
But,  as  a  preacher,  quite  too  slow 
For  certain  "  fast "  ones  here  below, 

By  devil  "  in  tandem  ''driven  ! 

CLX1X. 

For  in  this  age  of  fire  and  smoke, 
A  man  must  strike  a  mightier  stroke 

Than  e'er  old  Vulcan  did, 
And  forge  a  bolt  to  hurl  at  sin, 
Louder  and  hotter  than  all  within. 

The  bowels  of  ^Etna  hid ! 

CLXX. 

To  save  a  soul  is  not  enough  ; 
Man's  vengeance  is  of  sterner  stuff, 

He  makes  a  hell  of  fire, 
And  down  its  liquid  crata  hurls 
The  victims  of  a  thousand  worlds, 

To  gratify  his  ire  ! 


48 

CLXXI. 

Why,  then,  should  not  good  parson  Z-ll 
Extemporize  a  half-way  hell, 

For  those  who  live  too  "  slow/' 

Who  do  not  put  away  their  wives, 

f^8 
Or  play  the  wanton  like  Miss  ^  t-&t 

With  every  grass- fed  beau  ! 

CLXXII. 

Who  do  not  show  themselves  to  be 
Experts  in  all  rascality, 

Liars  on  every  taek  ; 
Professing  friendship  to  the  face, 
Yet  stabbing  with  a  Christian  grace 

Behind  each  Christian  back  ! 

CLXXII  I. 

Who  do  not  grasp  at  every  dime 
The  widow  holds  against  such  time 

As  she  may  make  her  will ; 
Or  curse  the  clergyman  who  gave 
Such  timely  warning  as  to  save 

The  purse  of  widow   *>  ^    • ! 

CLXXI  V. 

Who  do  not  drive  !'  two  forty  "  nags, 
And  run  against  all  proper  "  snags" 

In  journeying  their  lives  through  ; 
Who  do  not  "  high  old  rampage"  have 
At  times,  with  wine  and  nymphs  depave, 

As  all  "crack"  fellows  do! 


49 

CLXXV. 

Who  do  not  talk  of  "  honor  bright," 
Yet  put  all  honor  out  of  sight 

The  moment  honor's  due  ; 
And  boast  of  "  honest  triumphs"  had 
With  unsophisticated  maid, 

As  beautiful  as  true  ! 

CLXXVI. 

Who  do  not  pick  an  honest  purse, 
At  dice  or  cards,  or  something  worse, 

When  their  exchequer's  low  ; 
Or  make  their  "  governors  "  come  down 
At  proper  times  with  their  last  crown, 

Their  proper  love  to  show  ! 

CLXXVII. 

Such  "  sloth  "  as  this  shows  little  grace, 
In  such  a  purely  Christian  place 

As  this  is  said  to  be, 
And  argues  want  of  Christian  "  blood,11 
And  that  most  mettlesome  of  food — 

Fresh  bivalves  from  the  sea ! 

CLXXVII  f. 

And  then,  'tis  said,  the  parson's  daughter 
Got  married  as  she  "  had'nt  ought  to," 

In  the  old  fashioned  way,] 
To  one  she  really  loved,  and  not 
To  one  she  merely  meant  to  •'  spot" 

Upon  his  wedding  day. 
5 


50 

CLXXIX. 

In  doing  this,  she'd  really  given 
A  bad  example  to  West  Haven, 

That  might  contagious  prove, 
And  lead  some  unsophisticated. 
Shallow  maidens,  to  get  mated 

To  those  they  truly  love  ! 

CLXXX. 

We  all  can  see  that  this  would  lead 
To  consequences  grave  indeed, 

Since  disobedient  daughters 
Might  first  impose  upon  the  State 
Expenses  ruinously  great 

By  multiplying  paupers, 

cr.xxxr. 

And  then  subject  our  needy  church, 
To  be  once  more  left  in  the  lurch 
For  want  of  funds  to  carry  ; 
And  all  because  these  daughters  choose 
Their  "  opportunities  "  to  loose 
When  they  decide  to  marry  ! 

CLXXXII. 

Not  that  Miss  Z.  had  married  poor, 
Or  mated  with  a  "  country  boor ;" 

It  quite  the  contrary  proved, 
But  she  defiantly  had  dared 
To  marry,  as  her  future  "  laird," 

One  whom  she  really  loved ! 


51 

CLXXXIII. 

This  was  her  great  offence — too  great 
To  be  forgiven  by  church  or  state, 

In  their  most  potent  need 
Of  funds  to  fill  contractor's  purses  ; 
And  hence,  the  direful,  bitter  curses 

Now  heaped  upon  her  head. 

CLXXXIV. 

Oh,  age  of  folly — age  of  gold  ! 

To  see  your  daughters  bought  and  sold 

Like  Ethiopeun  slave ! 
Just  to  replete  an  empty  purse, 
Or  what  is  infinitely  worse — 

Consign  them  to  their  grave  ! 

CLXXXV. 

Or  rather  to  their  living  tomb, 

"Where  light  of  heaven  shall  never  come, 

Nor  love  shall  ever  bless, 
But  hate,  eternal  hate,  preside, 
In  all  her  rankling  state  of  pride, 

As  well  as  bitterness  ! 

CLXXXV  I. 

But  to  return  (o  W^d's  discourse; 
No  case  was  ever  stated  worse, 

Or  half  so  lamely  put; 
lie  cut  and  haggled  it  throughout, 
As  one  who  maladroiily  sought 

To  hide  a  cloven  foot ! 


52 

CLXXXVII. 

'Twas  all  the  reverend  gents,  could  do 
To  keep  their  faces  reverent  through 

The  harrangue,  or  thereafter ; 
And  when  he  finished  up  at  last, 
They  bit  their  lips  to  keep  them  fast, 

Against  a  burst  of  laughter !. 

CLXXXVIII. 

The  case  upon  the  other  side, 

Was  briefly  this  :  They  all  had  tried, 

But  tried  in  vain,  to  get 
Their  legal  rights,  and  now  they  brought 
Their  case  before  the  Assessor's  Court, 

To  have  it  squarely  met. 

CLXXXIX. 

The  church  at  least  were  five  to  one 
In  favor  of  still  going  on 

"Without  a  charge  of  role, 
And  hence,  the  only  point,  if  any, 
Was  who  should  rule,  the  few  or  many, 

The  church  or  "  agent  sole." 

CXC. 

The  Assessors  now  the  case  review, 
Ana  manage  after  an  hour  or  two, 

To  bring  in  their  report ; 
In  which  they  happily  decide 
The  point,  "  'twixt  north  and  northeast  side," 

And  cut  the  sordian  knot! 


CXCI. 

That  is  to  say,  they  first  condemn 
All  that  the  "conclave"  did,  and  then 

Endorse  all  they  had  done ; 
And  as  a  $fjlvo,  then  invite 
The  many  who  are  in  the  riglit, 

To  graceful!  v  succumb ! 

CXCI  I. 

The  friends  of  X-^ll  looked  blank  and  gruro, 
And  thought  it  very  like  a  hum. 
Or  more  like  splitting  hairs, 
Though  splint  of  hair  they  could'nt  see 
'Twixt  tweedledum  and  tweedledee. 
As  did  the  reNcrend  triers! 

CXCIII. 

But  they  decide  a  little  further, 
As  separating  this  from  t'other, 

That  parson  Z-^-ll  must  not 
Recall  his  resignation  made, 
But  have  his  salary  all  paid 

To  Easter  on  the  spot. 

CXCIV. 

And  this  was  to  be  raised  in  full 
By  contribution  from  the  whole — 

His  friends  as  well  as  foes ; 
With  power  to  do  it  by  committee, 
Seloctcd  from  the  t.v.vn  or  city, 

As  they,  the  whole,  might  choose! 


54 

cxcv. 

But  it  so  happened  that  the  "  whole  " 
Decided,  if  the  power  to  rule 

Was  only  in  the  "  few," 
They'd  let  the  "  said  committee  "  slide 
And  leave  the  rulers  to  provide 

The  salary  now  due  ! 

CXCVI. 

And  to  these  rulers,  it  is  said, 
Each  one  advances,  first  a  "  red," 

To  answer  the  award ; 
And  then  advises  them  to  sec 
The  balance  raised  immediately, 

As  times  are  getting  hard  ! 

cxcvn. 

The  balance  comes  like  pulling  teeth, 
Or  rather  like  a  lingering  death, 

When  life  is  in  its  noon  ; 
And  makes  the  purse  and  wallet  groan, 
As  when  some  reckless  spendthrift's  drawn 

On  his  last  picayune ! 

CXCV1II. 

Some  wondered  why  the  award  was  made 
So  very  like  a  masquerade, 

Or  fancy  ball  in  town  ; 
With  all  its  phases  so  complete 
That  neither  side  could  really  "  see  't, " 

Or  gulp  the  thing  quite  down ! 


CXCIX. 

But  ranior  had  it,  (no  one  knew 
Exactly  whence  it  sprung  or  grew,) 

That  Dr.  B.  had  made  it 
With  such  a  Machiavellian  pen, 
That  Z — 11  would  got  his  money,  when 

The  "  tew  "  had  really  paid  it! 

CC. 

And  rumor  had  it  further  blown, 
In  sundry  oircles,through  the  town. 

That  Dr.  B.  had  tried, 
By  laboring  with  his  colleagues  hard, 
To  get  the  principal  award 

Sot  finally  aside ; 

CCf. 

In  order  to  releive  the  "  few  " 
From  any  further  brawl  or  stew 

With  the  recusant  "  many, " 
And  recognize  the  "  agent  sole  " 
As  having  all  in  his  control, 

Since  he  controlled  the  money  ! 

ecu 

For  money  had  become  of  late, 
The  only  lever  in  church  or  state  ; 

And  nothing  could  be  worse, 
Than  simply  having  "  brains  "  to  glut 
An  empty  stomach,  or  to  put 

Quietus  on  a  purse  I 


56 

ccni. 

Though  tl brains"'  might  answer  very 
For  one  who  lived,  like  parson  Z^ll. 

In  country  town  or  village  : 
But  in  a  city  big  with  show, 
,Twas  money  made  the  "  Doctor  "  go. 

As  army  goes  by  pillage  ! 

CCIV. 

For  money  is  the  almighty  nexus 
In  church  and  state,  from  Maine  to  Tex&«, 

And  if  the  "  few  "  can  not 
Have  their  own  way  in  church  affairs, 
No  matter  what  its  grace  or  prayers*, 

The  church  must  go  to  pot ! 

ccv. 

Time  \*as  when  "brains"  might  win  the  rac«. 
In  building  up  a  church  like  this, 

Against  the  "  almighty  dollar, '" 
But  now,  by  general  assumption, 
The  dollar,  superceeding  gumption, 

Leaves  "  cannie brains"  to  follow. 

CCVF. 

These  arguments addroitly  roade, 
Almost  persuaded  it  "IB  said, 

The  Bishop  to  knock  under  : 
But  one  Assessor,  parson  Dr — n, 
Indignantly  put  his  foot  down, 

And  "  would  Vt — no.  b    thunder !": 


57 

CCVII. 

The  "few"  were  then  advised  to  take 
Another,  or  a  legal  tack, 

And  set  themselves  at  work 
To  get  the  church  in  statu  quo, 
Or  on  such  footing  as  to  go 

By  aid  of  lawyer  Quirk. 

CCVIII. 

It  seems  there  happened  once  to  be 
Up  in  old,  ancient  Bethany, 

A  church  that  did'nt  know, 
Exactly  when  the  time  came  round 
For  them  to  gather  in  the  town 

And  put  election  through, 

CCIX. 

That  is,  within  the  church  ;  and  so 
They  let  the  election  fall  quite  through. 

A  casiis  omissus  good  ; 
"When  all  agreed  to  go  to  court 
In  order  to  get  out  their  "foot" 

The  quickest  way  the  could. 

CCX. 

The  court  decides,  (as  courts  will  do. 
When  they  their  learning  wish  to  show) 

The  case  both  wrong  and  right; 
'Twas  wrong  to  let  election  slip, 
But  right  to  have  no  rivaiship, 

In  view  of  their  sad    liht ! 


58 

CCXI. 

And  so  they  beat  the  legal  cover. 
And  hold  that  vestries  may  hold  over. 

As  well  as  church  committees, 
When  there  has  been  so  clear  a  case 
Of  church  omission,  as  took  place 

Among  those  worthy  laities  ! 

CCXI  I. 

Now  lawyer  Quirk  sees  in  this  case. 
A  precedent  of  "special  grace," 

For  all  this  church's  broil ; 
They  might  go  back  a  year  or  two, 
And  all  they'd  done,  at  once  undo, 

And  thus  the  "many"  foil ! 

CCXIfl. 

An  old  committee,  long  since  dead, 
Might  be  raked  up.  though  much  decayed, 

And  in  bad  odor  still, 
To  take  the  place  of  those  elected 
The  year  before,  but  who'd  neglected 

Their  proper  place  to  fill, 

CCX1V. 

And  this  would  knock  the  corner  stone 
From  underneath  what  they  had  done, 

The  Bishop  and  Assessors. 
In  holding  that  the  "many"  were 
In  membership  established  clear, 

As  well  as  church  professors, 


59 

ccxv. 

And  finally,  on  Easter  day, 

La  "eighteen-hundred  sixty-three, 

They  galvanize  the  dead, 
Defunct  old  vestry,  who  come  forth 
From  out  their  mmnmy  cases,  wroth 

At  being  thus  beshred  ! 

CCXVI. 

But  wheedling  them  into  belief, 
That  they  had  really  come  to  life, 

Ar;d  were  no  longer  mummies, 
They  get  them  to  put  furlh  a  call, 
For  a  church  meeting  annual, — 

1  mean  these  three  church  dummies. 

CCXV  J  I. 

The  meeting  called,  the  "few"  convene; 
The  "many"  are  no  longer  seen 

To  pant  for  broil  or  fray ; 
The  "conclave"  has  the  amplest  swing, 
With  not  a  soul  on  them  to  bring 

Confusion  or  dismay. 

CCXVI1I. 

The  church's  walls  look  stained  and  bare, 
The  sioves  are  neither  here  nor  there, 

The  altar  cloth  is  gone, 
And  cobwebs  from  the  farthest  end 
Of  musty  ceiling,  now  depend, 

With  spiders  hanging  on  ! 


60 

CCXIX 

The  erupt j  desk,  in  looking  down 
Upon  the  "  agent,"  seems  to  frown  ; 

Tho  organ  scorns  to  say, 
Where  are  my  smashed  and  broken  pipes, 
And  whence  those  villainous  "  wipes  " 

I  got  upon  that  day, 

CCXX. 

When  you,  the  church's  "  agent  sole," 
Came  down  like  wolf  upon  my  fold, 

And  drove  them  hence  for  aye  7 
And  you  a  churchman,  good  and  true, 
Out  on  your  miserable  crew 

Forever  and  a  day  ! 

CCXXL 

The  outraged  organ  speaks  in  vain, 
Their  deafened  ears  and  hearts  to  gain ; 

They  set  themselves  at  work, 
And  as  if  bent  on  hellish  prize, 
In  spite  of  organ,  organize 

Themselves  into  a  church  ! 

CCXXII. 

Their  work  is  ended, — so  they  think  ; 
The  deed  is  entered  black  with  ink, 

But  blacker  with  intent ; 
Some  thirty  members  stricken  from 
The  church's  fold,  to  give  them  room, 

Or  give  their  spleen  a  vent ! 


61 

ccxxnr. 

And  spleen  they  had  more  splenetic 
Than  ever  hypochondriac, 

Or  spleeny  mortal  had; 

With  tongues  that  dripped  with  worse  saliva 
Than  ever  mad  dog's  tooth  could  slaver, 

However  deadly  rnad  ! 

CCXXIV. 

But  then,  their  spleen  was  not  enough, 
And  so  they  sought  for  spleenier  stuff — 

An  old  maid's  withered  tongue, 
That  could  a  little  louder  bawl  (-^a^)l 
Exude  worse  venom,  or  worse  gall, 

And  more  incessant  run  ! 

ccxxv. 

This  "  withered  tongue,"  'tis  said,  went  forth 
Throughout  the  parish,  charged  with  wrath 

And  vei.om  on  the  head 
Of  parson  Z^-ll,  and  on  all  those 
Who  did  not  ministration  choose 

Less  suited  to  their  need  ! 

CCXXVI. 

Their  work  is  ended  ; — so  'tis  said, 
And  all  their  wrath  is  visited, 

In  vials  doubly  full, 
Upon  this  Christian  church,  that  they, 
The  "  few,"  may  have  supremacy, 

In  what  they  call  church  rule ! 
G 


62 

CCXXVIT. 

Their  work  is  ended  : — yet,  how  true 
It  is,  that  villainy  fulls  through 

The  very  pit  it  makes  ; 
And  that  i!l  deeds  come  home  to  roost, 
When  we  have  calculated  most 

On  setting  fast  our  stakes  ! 
CCXXVI1I. 

Their  work  is  ended  : — oh,  how  few 
Will  ever  find  such  saying  true! 

No  work  doth  ever  end  ; 
That  of  to-day  lives  on  to  morrow, 
And  either  brings  its  joy  or  sorrow, 

As  kindred  work  shall  tend! 

CCXX1X. 

No,  'tis  not  ended ;  this  to  say, 
Were  bitterest  piece  of  irony, 

On  all  the  "  conclave  "  did  ; 
They  tried  to  make  perpetual 
The  strife  the  Bishop  tried  to  heal, 

And  in  his  anger  chid. 

ccxxx. 

And  now  his  stern  command  that  they 
Should  strictly  his  award  obey, 

Is  flouted  to  his  teeth ; 
While  brooding  o'er  the  church  is  hung 
A  pall  of  spiritual  gloom, 

Next  to  the  second  death. 


63 

CCXXXI. 

The  Muse  would  still  prolong  her  strain, 
But  begs  Euterpe's  fire  in  vain, 

For  more  extended  flight ; 
She  only  gives  her  I'jsk — not  fire, 
When  knaves  invoke  her  special  ire 

Upon  their  heads  to  light ! 

CCXXXII. 

But  at  some  future  time,  she  may 
Vouchsafe  me  all  I  a-k  to-day, — 

Tier  most  indignant  flame, 
To  light  the  altar  of  my  verse 
With  words  as  fierce,  and  thoughts  as  terse, 

As  fiery  epigram. 

CCXXX111. 

Meanwhile.  I'll  wait  to  ste  if  they 
Take  the  poetic  lash  to-day 

In  anger  less  than  sorrow  ; 
Or  whether  they  seek,  with  looks  morose, 
To  catch  another  and  tougher  dose 

Administered  to-morrow  ! 
CCXXXIV. 

Tims  ends  my  "  Knaviad  "  on  the  church  : — 
But  I  must  not  leave  in  the  lurch 

Its  chairman — Dr.  A12*4*  ; 
He's  done  his  dirty  work  for  B^n-^t, 
And  now  I'll  touch  him  up  with  sonnet, 

And  labor  for  his  pains  ! 


64 

CCXXXV. 

I'll  take  him  at  the  close  of  day  : — 
Good  parson  Z-&-11  has  gone  to  pray. 

And  sacrament  dispense 
To  dying  neighbor,  near  her  end, 
Whose  symptoms,  each  and  all,  portend 

A  speedy  exit  henoe ! 

CCXXXVJ. 

'Tis  near  this  self  same  "chairman's"  door; 
A  s:\bbath  evening,  just  before 

The  eyelids  of  God's  holy  day 
Were  closed  in  slumber,  and  he  felt — 
This  godly  parson — as  he  knelt, 

How  good  it  was  to  pray, 

CCXXXVII. 

Especially  with  one  so  soon 

To  go  before  the  Great  Unknown, 

The  I  AM  of  the  skies; 
Whose  great  commission  he  had  borne 
So  many  years  within  that  town, 

Dispensing  charities. 

ccxxxvni 

He  pours  his  soul  to  God  in  trust: — 
"  Eternal  Father !  if  it  must 

Be  as  our  fears  foredoom, 
Oh,  take  thine  humble  handmaid  heres 
And  bear  her  upward,  where  nor  tear 

Nor  sorrow  e'er  shall  come !  " 


65 

CCXXXIX 

And  though  the  Christian  now  revives, 
Her  soul  still  craves  the  upper  skies, 

Longs  to  depart  in  peace ; 
Yet  earthly  wishes  too  arc  there, 
Devoutly  hallowing  the  prayer, 

That  death  may  not  release 

CCXL 

The  loved  one  from  her  bondage  yet ; 

And  so  she  lingers  to  beget 

Alternate  hope  and  fear; 
And  when  at  length  some  annodyne 
Js  vranted,  or  domestic  wine, 

The  parson  seeks  it  near. 

CCXLI. 

Thoughtless  at  such  a  time,  if  any, 

Of  danger  from  the  "  few  "  or  "  many,  " 

lie  seeks  the  nearest  door, 
Imploring  some  quick  cordial  there, 
If  they  had  any  such  to  spare, 

The  dying  to  restore. 

CCXLIL 

A— s  sees  the  godly  man  approach, 
And  madly  leaping  from  his  coach, 

In  which  he'd  driven  home, 
Seizes  a  piece  of  broken  felly, 
And  swears  he'll  smash  his  head  to  jelly, 

If  he's  not  quickly  gone. 


06 

COXLI1I. 

But  nothing  daunted,  in  he  goes 
Amid  a  threatened  shower  of  blows, 

And  makes  his  errand  good  ; 
Here  noble  sire  and  dastard  son 
Confront  each  other,  man  to  none, 

And  thus  is  quelled  his  blood. 

CCXL1V. 

But  not  before  the  wretch  is  able 
To  hurl  some  dishes  from  the  table, 

That  graze  the  parson's  face ; 
The  act  of  coward,  double-dyed, 
Since  priestly  hands  are  doubly  tied 

By  precept  and  by  grace. 

CCXLV. 

And  oh,  ye  gods  of  lofty  Rome ! 

On  whom  this  Christian  world  looks  dow& 

With  such  supreme  disdain, 
Had  there  been  sinner  such  as  A-^, 
Within  your  sacred  temples'  fanes 

Hades  had  belched  again  ! — 

CCXLVI. 

Had  vomited  its  fiercest  fire 
Into  old  Rome's  polutcd  air, 

And  made  the  welkin  ring 
With  fiendish  clamors  for  the  knave. 
Who  such  impiety  could  brave, 

Or  such  dishonor  bring  ! 


67 

cexLvii. 

And  then  this  "doctor"  (few  may  know  it) 
Figured  quite  largely  as  a  poet:, 

Lampooning  parson  Z — 11. 
Without  one  grain  of  sense  or  wit 
In  all  the  wretched  trash  he  writ. 

So  vile  his  doggerel! 

CCXLVIII. 

As  Mffivius  once,  in  ancient  Rome, 
Whom  neither  gods  nor  man  would  crown 

With  the  first  sprig  of  bay, 
Voided  his  wretched,  riff- raff  rhymes, 
Or  gallimaufry  on  the  limes 

And  men  of  his  own  day. 

ccxux. 

So  now,  this  poetizing  as.«, 

AViih  more  than  Msevian  front  and^brass, 

Attempts  to  void  his  trash 
And  runs  about  the  town  to  tell 
How  he  has  flayed  the  parson  Z— II. 

With  his  poetic  lush ! 

CCL. 

\Vrite  on  !  a  glorious  age  for  rhyme, 
Thou  brainless  a<s  of  modern  time  ! 

Ay,  go  it  stiff  and  strong  ! 
Incumbent  on  thy  filmy  wing. 
Still  hold  thy  flight,  still  deign  to  sing. 

Thou  jackanapes  of  song  ! 


08 

ecu 

And  when  you've  finished  up  your  rhymes. 
Go  forth  and  chronicle  your  crimes 

Unblushingly  in  prose*; 
Tell  all  your  cronies  how  you  brought 
Your  wifu  to  seek  divorce  in  court. 

And  what  she  did  depose. 

CCLI1. 
And  though  it  blast  your  eye-balls,  read 

The  damning  record  that  is  spread 
Upon  the  files  in  court ; 

Then  go  and  hang  yourself  as  high 
As  Hainan  hung,  when  Mordecai 
Escaped  the  noose  he  wrought ! 

CCL1II. 

But  speaking  of  this  Hainan's:  rioosc. 
Reminds  me  sadly  of  the  use 

It  might  have  been  put  to  ! 
Even  in  those  barbaric  time?, 
Ere  virtues  ranked  as  highest  crimes. 

Or  crimes  to  virtues  grew. 

CCLIV. 

It  might  have  tied  up  Hamanrs  tongue, 
With  all  its  slanders,  or  have  wrung 

The  gall  from  out  his  liver  ; 
And  left  the  matrons  of  that  day 
Less  tittle-tattle  when  at  tea, 

To  shoot  from  venom's  quiver. 


CCLV. 

Our  age  had  seen  more  mirth  than  jesters, 
Oar  homes  less  Vashtis  and  more  Esthers 

Had  king  Ahasuerus 
Not  got  so  merry  once  with  wine, 
After  a  seven  day's  feast  or  dine, 

As  to  grow  cornic-scrious  ! 

CCLVI- 

But  then,  our  modern  Vashiis  marry, 
In  all  respect-*,  no  doubt,  as  chary. 

As  was  this  ancient  queen  ! 
And  would,  like  her,  withhold  their  beauty, 
At  court  or  banquet,  as  a  duty , 

Though  dying  to  be  seen  ! 

CCLVII. 

I  speak  of  what  I  know  of  those 

Who  tweak  their  liego-lords  by  tha  nose, 

On  every  state  occasion, 
And  "wear  the  breeches,"  us  we  say, 
In  vulgar  parlance  of  the  day, 

Without,  a  hair's  abrasion  ! 

CCLV  III. 

Who  marry  to  get  rid  at  <mcer 
Of  husband,  lover,  loon  and  dune*1, 

All  in  one  category. 
Without  restraint  upon  them  after, 
Kxcept  small  scandal  a-id  much  laughter. 

In  circles  amatory  ! 


70 

CCLIX. 

'Tis  said  s<  :nc  cases  in  West  Haven 

Might  with  great  pungency  be  given. 

In  certain  high-bred  quarters  : 
But  then  'twere  strange  this  were  not  said, 
Since  scandal  never  goes  to  bed 

Except  with  Eve's  fair  daughters. 

CCLX. 

Nor  ever  eloses  there  an  eye. 
But  keeps  a  watch  continually — 

This  Argus,  himdrod-eared  ; 
Hoping  to  catch  some  rumor  vile, 
Afloat  in  dreams,  or  borne  on  smile, 

Or  accents  scarcely  heard  ! 

CCLXI. 

But  I'll  not  "  mill"  this  scandal,  though 
I  mean  to  put  all  scandal  through 

The  mill  before  I'm  done, 
And  furnish  forth  a  "grist"  to  those 
"Who  scour  the  streets  with  blistered  toes. 

To  blister  with  their  tongue  ! 

CCLX!!. 

There's  Mrs.  Pryint — you  may  know  her — 
And  Mrs.  Tipton,  scarce  below  her, 

In  wealth  and  high  "posish  ;" 
They're  both  such  greely  scandal-mongers. 
That  one  for  scandal  never  hungers 

But  t'other  serves  a  dish  ! 


7i 

CCLXIII. 

And  the  Miss  Galls,  with  blistering  tongue, 
Old  nisi  ids  that  want  their  withers  wrung, 

To  judge  them  from  their  tether  ; 
Who  from  the  cup  of  scandal  sip, 
And  with  their  snuff-bags  sit  anil  "dip," 

Whilst  they  malign  together! 

CCLXIV. 

And  Mrs.  Gangrene,  from  whoa .3  touguo 
Continual  festers  drip  and  run, 

Or  gather  but  to  break, 
In  thicker  volume,  on  the  head 
Of  some  poor  neighbor,  too  ill-bred 

Her  husband  to  hen-peek  ! 

CCLXV. 

And  Mrs.  Wormwood,  whom  to  taste 
Would  be  like  condiment  or  paste, 

Made  of  the  flowers  of  rue  ; 
Who,  to  her  husband  grown  morose, 
Gives  tongue-wort,  in  continuous  dose, 

To  put  the  poor  man  through  ! 

CCLXVI. 

And  Mrs.  Virjuicc,  green-eyed  dame, 
(Her  spectacles  are  much  the  same 

In  color  as  her  eyes,) 
Who  keeps  a  look-out  for  new  comers, 
And  post-haste  gathers  up  all   rumors, 

About  them,  as  they  rise  1 


CCLXVII. 

And  Mrs.  Grimfaee,  galled  and  jaded, 
And  what  annoys  hor  mo*t — quite  faded, 

Who  lives  in  that  new  house, 
And  gives  a  party  once  a  quarter 
To  show  herself  off,  not  her  daughter, 

Or  amiable  spouse  ! 

CCLXVIII. 

And  Mrs.  Primrosrs,  starciied  all  over, 
As  one  would  baste  a  snipe  or  plover, 

And  looking  each  year  belter  ; 
Her  husband's  gone  so  much  from  home, 
She'd  no  doubt  "  gorge  herself  in  gloom," 

If  other  men  would  let  her  ! 

CCLXIX. 

And  Mr?,  Vindex,  who  can  throw 
The  smallest  kind  of  pebble  through 

Each  vitrccus  house  in  town, 
And  gather  "  motes ''  from  neighbor's  eyes, 
Without  remotest  thought  to  seize 
The  "  beam  "  within  her  own  ! 

CCLXX. 

These  several  dames,  each  in  their  way, 
•'  Cream  up"  our  aristocracy 

With  their  incipient  butter, 
And  save  it,  first  from  being  lammed, 
And  theti  incontinently  damned, 

Or  thrust  into  the  gutter. 


73 

CCLXXI. 

For  know,  kind  reader,  there  can  bo 
No  smaller  aristocracy 

In  any  town  or  city, 
Than  what  we've  got  among  us  here, 
In  what  is  called  a  certain  "  sphere," 

By  jesters  nice  and  witty. 

CCLXXII. 

In  origin  they  claim  to  come 

From  ancient  stock  within  tho  town, 

Some  lordly  bivalve-vender, 
Or  "  oysterman,"  in  common  phrase, 
Who  once  a  week,  'tis  said,  said  grace, 

And  then  went  on  a  "  bender," 

CCLXXIII. 

Or  from  some  daring  navigator 
Who  took  the  "  bar  "  for  the  equator, 

And  navigated  round, 
In  various  bays  and  inlets  wide, 
From  Oyster  river  to  Fort  Hale  side, 

.But  never  crossed  the  sound  ! 

CCLXXIV. 

Who  once,  'tis  said,  got  cast  away 
Near  "  Grape  Vine  Point,  "  up  in  the  bay, 

In  manner  bold  and  risky  ; 
But  when  the  facts  were  known,  'twas  found 
He'd  only  run  his  craft  aground 
Upon  a  —  jug  of  whisky  ! 
7 


7A 

CCLXXV. 

These  daring  "navigators"  had 
Originally  taken  shad 

Between  tta  bridge's  tresslt-3 ; 
But  when  the  shad  gave  out,  they  turned 
Their  nets  adrift,  and  thenceforth  earned 

Their  bread  by  bagging  muscles! 

CCLXXVI. 

This  proved  a  dangerous  kind  of  "  sailing," 
And  caused  no  doubt  much  grief  and  wailing 

Among  their  several  spouses, 
Who  saw  them  "  under  bare  poles  "  scud, 
And  often  founder  in  the  mud, 

With  fearful  loss  of —  trowsers! 

CCLXXV  II. 

They  were  a  jolly  set  of  tars, 

Those  rare  old  clammers  on  the  bars, 

With  rake  and  hoe  and  shovel; 
Aud  who  would  not  most  clamorous  be 
In  praise  of  such  an  ancestry, 

Though  sprung  from  lowliest  hovel! 

CCLXXVIII. 

Yet  strange  to  say ,  their  suns  have  come 
-On  all  such  "jolly  tars"  to  frown, 

As  if  they  thought  to  say : — 
Your  presence  is  offensive,  sir, 
It  galls  my  wife,  suggests  to  her, 

What  1  had  been  to-day, 


75 

CCLXXIX. 

Had  not  some  old  ancestral  clammer, 
Once  on  a  time  obtained  a  "  manor," 

In  which  to  cut  his  hay, 
And  somehow  left  it  to  come  down 
In  safe  succession  to  the  one 

That  occupies  to-day  ! 

CCLXXX. 

These,  for  armorial  bearings,  had 

Each  three  ciams  clatnant  and  one  shad, 

On  their  escutcheons  graven  ; 
And  boasted  of  ancestral  worth, 
As  far  back  as  the  fortieth  birth 

That  took  place  in  West  Haven. 

CCLXXXI. 

To  prove  this  true,  they  first  resort 
To  ancient  records  that  are  brought 

Down  in  ancestral  tree, 
And  then  to  graveyards  gravely  go, 
To  hunt  inscriptions,  and  to  throw 

Light  on  their  pedigree  ! 

CCLXXXH.  ^ 
This  being  done,  'tis  found  that  they 

Were  born  at  least  a  century 
Before  their  stated  time  ; 
This  reconciles  anachronism, 
And  fills  the  gap  in  times  abysm. 
Or  their  ancestral  line! 


CCLXXXIH. 

Some  others  laid  their  claim  to  be 

Ranked  with  the  great  "  stuck-up-racy," 

Upon  their  lack  of  brains ; 
Or  rather  insufficient  skull, 
To  hold  the  little  thimble-full, 

That  each  of  theirs  contains. 

CCLXXXIV. 

They  had  some  money,  it  is  true, 
But  then  'twas  never  earned,  but  grew 

Like  punjppkinjon  a  vine, 
And  dropped  into  their  laps  when  ripe, 
As  I  have  seen  a  stricken  snipe 

Drop  from  a  shot  of  mine, 

CCLXXXV. 

Not  into  my  own  bag,  but  where 
Some  ''-lubber  "  bagged  it  in  despair 

Of  ever  fetching  feather  ; 
Just  so  their  fortunes  came  to  these 
Land-lubbers,  or  "  stuck-up-racies," 

By  chance  shot  of  another  ! 

CCLXXXVI. 

And  yet  they  toss  their  heads  in  air 
As  if  all  gravitation  were 

Entirely  suspended, 
And  tread  the  earth  as  if  their  feet 
'Twixt  heaven  and  earth  might  somewhere  meet, 

If  properly  suspended  ! 


77 

CCLXXXVIJ. 

Or  grimly  greet  you  in  the  street, 
As  if  their  vivisections  met 

In  spite  of  tied  cravat, 
And  venture  forth  into  the  wind 
With  coat-tuil  streaming  far  behind, 

Like  tail  behind  a  rut! 

CCLXXXVIII. 

Now  all  of  these  pretentious  airs, 
Put  on  like  sunday  clothes  of  theirs, 

To  cover  up  their  vices, 
Is  what  disgusts  tho  Mtise  to  see, 
Provokes  her  taunts  and  raillery, 

And  sling  of  cockatrices! 

CCLXXXIX. 

And  though  they  ludicrously  seem, 
In  gait  and  air,  in  port  i»nd  mien, 

They  scarcely  merit  laughter  ; 
But  only  such  a  pitying  glance 
As  folly  catches  in  the  dance. 

With  vices  dangling  after  ! 

CCXC. 

But  what  disgusts  the  Muse  still  more, 
Are  vices  rankling  in  the  core 

Of  all  society  ; 
Vices  indigenously  grown, 
In  church  and  stat*1,  and  handed  down 

As  virtue's  legacy  ! 


78 

CCXCI. 

These  vices  bear  their  heads  so  high 
.In  all  church  aristocracy, 

That  virtue,  meaner  clad, 
Mistakes  her  calling,  and  goes  forth 
In  search  of  really  honest  worth, 

To  pity  and  upbraid. 

CCXCH. 

There's  Dea.  Cantwell,  whom  you've  seets 
A  hundred  times  upon  the  green, 

With  Sunday  face  so  long, 
That  one  would  almost  swear  his  nose 
Ran  half-way  down  to  where  his  toes 

Notoriously  belong ! 

CCXCIIl. 

He's  been  a  deacon  twenty  years, 
And  yet,  'tis  said,  has  sundry  fears 

Of  being  damned  at  last ; 
But  then  such  fears,  his  parson  saysr 
Give  evidence  of  special  grace, 

And  so  he  stands  confessed  ! 

CCXCI  V. 

But  all  his  piety  and  grace 
Are  lavished  on  an  ugly  face, 

That  all  the  uglier  grows, 
For  putting  on  his  solemn,  grum 
Demeanor,  that  is  all  a  hum., 

As  everv  body  knows ! 


79 

CCXCV. 

Bui  then  he's  got  the  '-sulid  rocks" 
Converted  once  from  fancy  stocks, 

By  sharper  on  the  street ; 
And  holds  them  in  such  durance  vile 
That  they  draw  interest  all  the  while, 

And  yet  no  interest  meet. 

CCXCVJ. 

The  bank  has  got  them  on  deposit, 
So  "  slyly  "  that  nobody  knows  it; 

Yet  rumor  has  it  thus: — 
It  has  them  on  what's  called  a  "  special," 
Not  thereby  meaning  by  the  bushel, 

But  for  a  special  use. 

CCXCVII. 

It  holds  them  "  as  '"  and  "  of"  the  deacon, 
Two  particles  the  lawyers  stick  on 

To  en  tracts  nice  and  witty  ; 
Which  means  that  when  the  bank  "goes  up,** 
The  deacon  don't,  but  stays  to  sup 

With  cashier  in  the  city. 

CCXCVI1I. 

Now  should  this  bubble  go  unpunctured, 
A  little  longer,  Peter-Funkward, 

The  deacon  stands  a  chance, 
Without  a  single  risk,  to  "  double," 
As  brokers  call  it,  when  they  gobble 

A  fortune  in  advance. 


80 

CCXCIX. 

Now  all  the  while  the  deacon  knows 
The  Bank's  not  worth  the  debts  it  owes, 

And  may  "go  up "  to-morrow, 
And  yet  he  lets  its  paper  slide 
From  out  his  wallet  gaping  wide 

For  bonds  of  those  that  borrow, 

CCC. 

And  this  is  Christian  honesty ! 
Commands  a  premium  to-day 

In  the  West  Haven  market! 
Obtains  your  deaconships  and  makes, 
Respectable  your  very  rakes, 

However  much  they  "  lark  it.  " 

CCCI. 

\Vhile  honest  poverty  is  spurned 
The  very  door,  and  e'en  out-turned 

The  church,  because  it  dares 
To  wear  an  independent  front, 
To  have  its  say — its  will,  its  wont, 

In  church  and  state  affairs  ! 

CCCIf. 

And  shall  the  Muse  withhold  her  lash 
From  "potent,  grave  and  reverend"  cash, 

Or  rather  reverend  skin. 
"With  plastering  suffix,  just  to  hide, 
Its  naked  leprosy  outside, 

And  villainy  within? 


81 

occur. 

Not  if  all  Wall-Street  raised  its  head, 

And  swore  that  heaven  and  earth  were  made, 

To  steadily  revolve 
On  paper  axis,  held  at  par, 
When  gold  is  up  to  eighty-four, 

With  tendencies  above ! 

CCCIV. 

And  this  your  wretched  paper  bubble 
Is  all  a  sham,  a  cheat,  a  baublo, 

A  sheer  inflated  lie  ; 
The  only  bottom  it  has  got 
Is  what  it  has,  and  yet  has  not, — 

A  kite  with  string  to  fly  ! 

cccv. 

And  yet  it  has  the  potent  power 
To  grind  to  earth  the  laboring  poor, 

And  make  them  doubly  slave ; 
Enhancing  value  where  'tis  not, 
With  "here  you  see  ifc — there  you  don't," 

Like  thimble  rigging  knave  ! 

CCCV  I. 

Of  all  the  vices  of  the  town — 
And  damning  vices  it  has  some, — 

There's  none  wit.h  this  compares: — 
The  vice  that  steals  from  out  your  purte, 
With  knavish  hand,  to  reimburse 

With  what  the  beggar  wears  ! 


82 

CCCVII. 

One  of  its  victims  I  had  known, 
A  youth  once  worshiped  through  the  town 

For  evory  manly  grace; 
Though  neither  rich,  nor  yet  high-bred, 
He  wore  an  honest  front,  and  had 

As  true  a  heart  as  face. 

CCCVIII. 

He  married  young  ('twas  no  disgrace 
To  marry  thus  in  earlier  days,) 

And  had  as  sweet  a  wife 
As  ever  heaven  smiled  down  upon, — 
And  one  as  beautiful  as  young, 

And  full  of  joyous  life. 

CCCIX. 

They  lived  a  brief  way  out  of  town  ; 
Their  little  cottage  painted  brown, 

Was  tasteful  in  design, 
And  had  a  neat  veranda,  where 
Each  climbing  rose  perfumed  the  air, 

As  well  as  clambering  vine ! 

CCCX. 

He  was  employed  by  Cant  &  Co., 
Upon  a  salary  too  low, 

They  thought,  for  him  to  live  ; 
So  they  discharged  him,  lest  his  wife 
Should  tempt  to  more  expensive  life, 

Or  to  purloin  anu  thieve ! 


83 

CCCXI 

And  yet  this  pious  firm  proposes 
To  aid  their  clerk,  if  he  but  chooses, 

By  making  him  a  loan  ; 
He  giving  bond  and  mortgage  back, 
Upon  his  house,  and  little  tract 

Of  land,  just  out  of  town. 

CCCXII. 

The  loan  that  they  would  have  him  take, 
Is  in  the  bills  that  they  protect, 

On  the  Gridiron  Bank; 
An  institution  they  extol 
As  having  all  its  capital 

In  stocks  of  highest  rank  ! 

cccxin. 

Its  paper  they  would  have  him  hold 
Against  such  time  as  they  the  gold 

May  purchase  up  at  par, 
When  they,  of  course,  will  promptly  make 
Redemption  of  the  bills  in  bank, 

Or  pay  in  trade  before ! 

CCCXI  V. 

And  thus  the  tempters  of  this  youth, 
The  one  a  deacon  now  forsooth, 

Adroitly  fling  their  twine  ; 
As  satan  once  for  Eve  laid  wait, 
And  knew  that  nibbling  at  the  bait, 

Was  dangling  at  the  line ! 


84 

CCCXV. 

The  young  tnau  sees  the  gilded  fly, 
And  though  at  first  a  little  shy, 

Takes  greedy  hold  at  last ; 
The  deacun  slowly  winds  his  reel, 
He  knows  he's  hooked  with  hook  of  steel, 

And  to  his  twine  made  fast! 

CCCXVI. 

A  brief  month  passes,  and  what  then  ? 
A  mad,  tumultuous  rush  of  men, 

All  clamorous  through  the  street ; 
The  great  unpunctured  bubble's  burst, 
"  Gone  up,"  is  "  nowhere,"  or  a-dust 

Amidst  their  trampling  feet! 

CCCXV  II. 

The  young  man's  hopes,  all  stowed  away 
'Noath  trusty  lock  and  trustier  key, 

Come  forth  to  light  at  last ; 
Ono  stifled  curse,  one  bitter  groan, 
And  all  his  dreams  of  wealth  are  flown, 

Like  shadows  madly  grasped, 

CCCXVI  1 1. 

At  first  he  struggles  manfully, 
Like  some  strong  swimmer  on  the  sea, 

Whose  bark  has  just  gone  down 
'Neath  crushing  iceberg,  leaving  there 
Nor  sign  of  life  nor  splint  of  spar, 

To  rest  a  hope  upon ! 


85 

CCCXIX. 

But  soon  the  waters  o'er  his  soul 
In  wild  tumultuous  horror  roll, 

While  reason  from  her  throne 
Reels  headlong,  and  you  hear  a  cry 
Of  deepest  mortal  agony 

Above  the  waters  borne ! 

CCCXX. 

Go  to  that  little  cottage  now  : — 

Just  heaven  !  ward  off  the  impending  blow 

From  that  devoted  head, 
Now  pillowed  on  the  feverish  breast 
Of  him  who  tosts  in  wild  unrest, 

And  mutters  words  scarce  heard  ! 

CCCXXI. 

To  morrow  sees  that  bond  mature : — 
The  dying  man  has  struggled  o'er 

The  brink  of  his  despair, 
Yet  raves  all  wildly ;  strong  men  stay 
To  hold  him  in  his  agony, 

And  wish  they  were  not  there  ! 

CCCXXII. 

The  deacon  calls  to  get  his  pay  : — 
He  had  not  heard  the  news  that  day, 

Or  he  had  staid  a.t  home  ; 
The  dying  man  he  does  not  see, 
But  hears  one  cry  of  agony, 

And  rushes  from  the  room  ! 
8 


8(3 

CCCXXIII. 

The  evening  sun  goes  down  at  last : — 
All  earthly  joy  and  grief  are  past, 

To  that  strong  sufferer  now  ; 
His  bond  of  life  lies  cancelled  there, 
You  see  the  pall,  the  hearse,  the  bier» 

The  widow's  weeds  of  woe  ! 

CCCXXIV. 

But  there's  another  bond  to  meet : — 
Dcaih  summons  all  with  equal  feet, 

The  monarch  as  ihe  slave, 
But  has  no  power  to  cancel  those 
Most  potent  bonds  the  lawyers  use 

To  reach  beyond  the  grave  ! 

CCCXXV. 

The  deacon  calls  a  few  weeks  later  : — 
He  is,  in  fact,  no  woman  hater, 

So  seeks  the  widow's  door, 
In  hopes  she's  found  some  special  grace 
To  lighten  up  her  dark  distress, 

Since  his  day's  grace  is  o'er  ! 

CCCXXVi. 

He's  called  to  see  what  she  can  do  : — 
The  widow  hears  his  story  through; 

The  mortgage  covers  all, — 
All  to  the  very  plate  he  brought, 
In  all  his  wealth  of  love  unbought, 

To  contract  marital ! 


87 

CCCXXVII. 

His  pay  is  finally  obtained  : — 
Foreclosure,  bills  of  cost,  suit  gained — 

A  writ  of  restitution  ; 
AH  Imvried  through  in  u  double  quick,'' 
And  in  the  sheriffs  hands  to  prick 

The  bubble — destitution  ! 

CCCXXVII  I. 

Ah  Dca.  Cant,  the  day  will  come, 

When  heaven  on  all  such  di-ccls  shall  frown, 

And  yon  will  plead  in  vain, 
As  Dives  did  with  Lfi/ariH, 
For  one  small  drop  to  quench  your  thirst, 

Or  stay  your  nVry  pain  ! 

CCCXXIX. 

The  great  eternal,  primal  law 
Of  compensation,  has  no  flaw. 

Or  subterfuge  fur  you  ; 
It  doles  you  out  for  every  sin 
A  curpe  for  you  to  swelter  in, 

Whvn  Hades  has  its  due ! 

CCCXXX. 

Oh,  how  I  do  detest  their  cant, 
These  long-eared  puritans  that  rant 

About  old  Adam's  sin, 
Who,  some  two  thousand  years  before 
The  flood,  (the  Brahmins  make  it  more.) 
Got  strangely  taken  in  ! 
" 


68 

CCCXXXI. 

And  who,  because  their  sins  are  great, 
Lay  all  the  blame  on  Adam's  pate, 

Or  rather  on  his  loins  ; 
Or  fancy,  when  themselves  miscarry, 
'Tis  not  themselves,  bat  some  young  Harry. 

Fresh  from  the  Old  ones  groins  ! 

CCCXXXII. 
To  whip  the  devil  round  the  stump 

Is  mean  enough,  but  when  you  thump 

Him  squarely  o'er  the  pate, 
With  your  own  sins,  'tis  dastardly, 
And  though  I  hate  tire  devil,  I 

Will  help  him  in  such  strait ! 

CCCXXXI  IT. 

He's  had  his  sins  to  answer  for, 
As  Milton  shows;  and  when  the  power 

That  hurled  him  headlong  down 
The  outer  battlements,  and  sent 
His  hosts  sky-voyaging,  had  once  spent 

Its  force, —  he  was  "done  brown  !" 

CCCXXXIV. 

This  is  no  theologic  marvel, 
But  settled  fact  beyond  all  cavil, 

Except  'mong  pagan  powers  ; 
And  hence,  I've  always  fult  the  church 
Had  its  foundation  built  too  much 

On  Adam's  sin.  not  ours  ! 


89 
CCCXXXV. 

Had  we  all  sinned  in  Adam's  fall, 
Then  Adam  must  have  sinned  for  all, 

Or  done  up  all  our  sinning, 
At  least  six  thousand  years  before 
We  ever  thought  of  sinning,  or 

Had  our  tadpole  begining  ! 

CCCXXXVI. 

Now  this  would  utterly  reverse 
That  great  hereditary  curse 

From  sire  to  son  inbred, 
And  send  the  sins  of  which  we  boast, 
Like  chickens,  vilely  back  to  roost 

On  Adam's  guiltless  head  ! 

CCCXXXVI  I. 

And  though  I  solemnly  protest, 
As  well  for  Adam  as  the  rest 

Of  our  ancestral  line, 
Against  such  vile  injustice  done 
To  primal  sire,  when  looked  upon 

As  guiity  of  our  crime  ; 

cccxxxvnr. 

Yet  I  admit  w->  bear  his  sin, 

And  feel  the  curse  pronounced  on  him, 

As  the  Church  Creed  declares  ; 
But  not  as  those  believe  who  say, 
All  sin  through  him.  and  thus  bewray 

JTls  sins  alone,  not  theirs. 


90 

CCCXXXIX. 

A  better  faith  from  me  receive,. 
And  act  upon  it  while  you  live,. 
And  longer  if  you  can  : — 
Believe  that  every  thought  and  word, 
And  deed  of  yours,  stands  registered 

CCCXL. 

Against  you  to  a  man, 
And  that  on  reaching  that  High  Court 
Of  Chancery,  where  all  resort 

For  ultimate  decree, 
That  each  must  answer  for  his  own,. 
From  Adam  down  to  his  last  son, 

In  chain  of  pedigree  ; 

CCCXLI. 

That  none  can  plead  another's  sin 
In  bar  of  judgment  against  him, 

In  that  Imperial  Court, 
Where  justice  sits  with  equal  scales- 
And  in  her  judgments  never  fails 

To  weigh  the  secret  thought, 

CCCXLH. 

As  well  as  overt  act  of  crime  ; 
Accept  this  faith  as  yours  and  miner 

And  then  we  may  deceive 
The  devil,  with  his  imps  and  elve*r 
But  never  can  deceive  ourselve^ 

The  longest  day  we  live  I 


91 

CCCXLIII. 

Their  work  is  ended.     He  whose  life 
In  Christian  grac«>  was  all  too  brief, 

Has  gone  to  rest  at  last;  — 
With  him  all  earthly  toils  are  o'er, 
All  griefs  and  joys  forevcrmore, 

With  life's  brief  journey,  past. 

CCCXLIV. 

He  sleeps  all  tranquilly,  this  good, 
Devout,  and  lowly  man  of  God, — 

Rests  from  his  toils  in  peace; 
And  they  who  smote  him  i:.  the  dust, 
With  cruel  wrong  and  acts  accurst, 

Have  of  their  hate  surcease. 

COCXLV. 

Life's  journey  ended — he  sleeps  well; 
No  feuds  to  meet,  no  broils  to  quell, 

No  clamors  to  allay ; 
No  call  to  dry  the  widow's  tenr, 
No  mourner's  grief  to  seek  and  share, 

No  broken  hearts  to  stay. 

CCCXLVI. 

With  him  the  storms  of  life  arc  f-pent, 
No  cloud  remains  its  wr.it li  to  vent, 

All  is  serene  and  clear; — 
And  He  who  spans  the  heavens  above 
With  rain-bow  tokens  of  his  love, 

Accords  a  welcome  there ! 

C:CXLVII. 

Hate,  like  a  scorpion,  ever  dies 
From  its  own  sting.     Its  agoniei 

Are  those  itself  out-throes; 
Then  let  the  venom  of  the  few, 
Who  on  his  church  such  scandal  drew, 

LMc  as  the  scorpion  doas! 


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